Will You Ever Return to Me?
by jedi-from-mordor
Summary: AU from HBP. The war is a much bigger disaster, so is Harry's relationship with Ginny. When Voldemort is defeated, Harry returns home to find Ginny engaged to his worst enemy. Meanwhile, a new Dark Wizard plots in secret...
1. Prologue

**WILL YOU EVER RETURN TO ME?**

**Prologue.**

_June 1998, The Burrow._

War. Death. Fear. Harry Potter knew too much of it. But it was finally over, and he supposed that they won—Voldemort was gone, and he was still standing. Most of the wizarding world was celebrating, just like they had almost twenty years before, the day Harry got his famous scar. And, like twenty years before, the tragedies that the war entailed were ignored by the celebrants.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione could not celebrate. They could only feel bitter relief, having lost so much, suffered so long. They didn't feel like heroes, and they didn't want to be told they were. All that distinguished them from a multitude of others was that they lived, and the others died.

Too much was lost. Too many people they knew had fallen. For them, there was nothing to be happy, or triumphant, or proud about. They could only feel a bitter satisfaction that they had done their job. If that.

Molly and Arthur Weasley. Executed by Death Eaters for being blood-traitors. Remus Lupin. Killed in his werewolf form, never to appear human again. Nymphadora Tonks. Went after Remus and fell into Lucius Malfoy's trap. Alastor Moody and Filius Flitwick. Killed fighting to protect Hogwarts. Minerva McGonagall. Killed by Snape, apparently as an act of revenge. Rubeus Hagrid. Given the Dementor's Kiss. Charlie Weasley. Fell of a sabotaged broomstick. Fred and George Weasley. Tortured to death by Bellatrix Lestrange. Susan Bones, Colin Creevey, Parvati Patil, Zacharias Smith, Theodore Nott, Seamus Finnigan, and Anthony Goldstein. Killed in the attack on Hogwarts. Gabrielle Delacour. Used the wrong Portkey and vanished, her mutilated body returned to the family. And so many others. No, they couldn't celebrate, nor could they live among those who did. Almost the moment Voldemort fell, they had decided to leave the country. Here, they were haunted by too many bad memories.

Of course, there was hope as well. Hope, and friendship, and love. Ron and Hermione had gotten engaged, and Harry was hoping that he might have something like that with...

With the person who had just stepped out to meet them. "Ginny!" he shouted.

"You're alive!" She ran up and hugged her brother. "Hermione!" She embraced the girl. "Harry..."

Harry embraced her warmly. "Ginny." He moved in to kiss her.

"Harry, don't," she said.

"What?"

"We can't—"

"What?"

"Well..." She raised her left hand, which had a—

"What's this?" Harry asked, grabbing her hand and lifting it.

"What the bloody—" Ron exclaimed before Hermione smacked him.

Ginny wrung her hand away. "What does it look like?"

"An engagement ring," Hermione supplied.

"It _is_ an engagement ring," Ginny said. Harry went numb at the pronouncement.

"You've gotten engaged?!" Harry shouted.

"Well, yes, I have."

"But I thought..."

"That I was going to wait for you? I guess you don't know me that well."

"Who... who...?" he managed.

Ginny looked at him. "Why do you care?"

"How can I not care?"

"Jealous?"

"Of course I am. I love you, Ginny."

Ginny looked into his eyes. "You never told me that when we were dating."

"Enough, Ginny. Who?"

"Draco Malfoy."


	2. Episode I: chapter 1

**Episode I: the Boundaries of Patience**

**Chapter 1.**

_October 1998, Diagon Alley._

Harry had done his duty—as he always had.

He had come to Ron and Hermione's wedding for the sake of his best friends. He would be best man, despite the gaping hole in his chest. None of them understood what motivated Ginny. When Hermione tried to reason, first in person, then, when she became too busy, by owl, she got nowhere. Finally, Ginny sent her a Howler screaming, "I LOVE DRACO AND I WILL MARRY HIM!"to her. Harry wished he could find it funny.

She didn't sent him a Howler, but their communications weren't much better. She was very nice, very polite to him... but the letters always firmly stated that the past was past... and that she intended to marry Malfoy. _I love him_. Just reading that hurt. Knowing Ginny, he didn't want to get hurt even more by hearing it.

Four months. Four months since the end of the war. Four months in which the wizarding world was celebrating. Four months of torture for Harry. Hounded by reporters, wanted to be used by the Ministry, killing himself over Ginny...

And today, for the first time in four months, he would see her. He wasn't looking forward to it.

If it wasn't for Ron's insistence, Hermione wouldn't even have invited her. How many times had Malfoy called her a Mudblood? Did Ginny think like him now? Hermione took this almost as hard as Harry... _but she has Ron,_ Harry thought. Hermione told Harry that she always imagined Ginny as her maid of honor... which terrified Harry until she told him that it wouldn't happen. She chose Luna Lovegood.

The wedding started off with a moment of happiness. Percy Weasley, apart from the family for years, who wouldn't even speak at his parents' funeral, had come.

The two brothers faced each other. Exchanging a glance with Hermione, Harry was ready to pry them apart, take away their wands... but they crushed each other in an embrace.

"I've missed you, Perce," Ron said. "We all did... even Fred and George..." He nearly burst into tears. Hermione helped dry his eyes.

Bill approached to hug Percy as well. He was grim. His wife, Fleur, had been attacked in their home, with their baby daughter. Both were subjected to the Cruciatus Curse. By the time Bill got there, and in his fury, killed two Death Eaters on the spot, it was too late. The baby died, and Fleur, while appearing all right, would never be able to have children again. She and Bill celebrated the end of the war no more than Harry, Ron, and Hermione did.

"Welcome back, Perce," Bill said. Harry forced a smile.

"What is it?" Bill asked.

"You heard about Ginny?" Harry hated bringing up the issue.

Bill nodded. "I did." Harry was surprised Bill could be so calm... one of the Death Eaters who attacked his wife and child was Lucius Malfoy.

"You don't think she'll bring... _him_ here?" Harry asked.

"She wouldn't... dare," Ron whispered. Ginny Apparated in... as did Malfoy.

_She's beautiful,_ Harry thought. But with the situation as it was, that beauty was almost a mockery. _She's not yours._

The couple approached. Harry tried to look Ginny in the eye, but she turned away. Malfoy smirked, placing his arm around her. Harry narrowed his gaze. It took all his restraint not to draw his wand and curse him.

He spotted a movement nearby. "Bill, don't," he said, restraining the older man.

"Not exactly the welcome I would have liked," Ginny commented.

Ron glared at her. "Ginevra Weasley," he said. "Take your seat."

"Ron, why—"

"Take your seat," Harry said. Everyone fell silent.

"Don't tell me what to do, Potter," Malfoy retorted.

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry said without looking at him. "Ginny, this day belongs to Ron and Hermione. TAKE YOUR SEAT."

"Fine," Ginny announced, and dragged Malfoy away. Harry wiped sweat off his forehead.

"Mate, I'm not going to ask you if you're all right," Ron placed his hand on his shoulder. "I know you aren't."

"Will it ever be all right?" Harry asked, looking at the people around him.

Bill was the only one to answer him. "I don't know, Harry," he said. "I wish I did."

The wedding itself was a blur. Harry did his part at the alter, but he never danced. The one person he wished to dance with was taken. Harry sat on the sidelines, drinking almost constantly.

So many people who should have been here... weren't. McGonagall... Dumbledore... Remus and Tonks, whose romance barely had time to start... Sirius... Arthur and Molly, who would never see any of their grandchildren...

_Then,_ Harry thought bitterly, _considering some of them would bear the Malfoy name, it may be for the best._ Ginny was determined, and her parents wouldn't be able to stop her anymore than he or Hermione were. That was one of the things he loved about her. _She is gone, Harry. Think of her as dead. That's easier._

"Can't believe this, a Mudblood for a sister-in-law," he heard Malfoy's voice. "Oh well. It's not her I'll be shagging—"

Harry jumped up, and he was not the only one. He couldn't take this anymore. He raised his wand and threw a curse at Malfoy.

He missed, his aim being offset by having too much to drink. The spell flew by Malfoy and hit Ron in the back of the head. Ron now spotted a pair of long donkey ears. Hermione, who was dancing with him, shrieked.

"Oh, Ron, I'm so sorry!" Harry yelled. Malfoy burst into laughter.

"I didn't know there was a way to make the Weasel look any uglier, but Potter found one!" he said.

Harry was ready to do murder. He smashed the wine glass he was holding, got up, and headed towards Malfoy, who was still laughing, and got another shock.

Ginny was laughing with him.

Ginny was laughing with him.

Clenching his fists, Harry strode forward, despite realizing he was lacking coordination.

"We are obviously not welcome here, Draco," Ginny said. "Let's go."

Harry might have run at Malfoy and kill him then. With his bare hands. He tried, but two steps later, he bumped into Luna Lovegood, leading them both to crash to the floor. Luna giggled. Harry flushed. Malfoy doubled over in laughter again.

"Potter, I'd appreciate it if you got off my girlfriend," Neville said.

"Sorry, Nev," Harry sighed. "Sorry, Luna."

"Harry," Neville said as he got up, "don't—"

Harry ignored him and aimed his wand.

"_Expelliarmus!_" Bill shouted. Harry's wand was yanked away. Before Harry attempted to rush Malfoy without it, he and Ginny Disapparated.

Harry punched a table, causing several glasses to fall over. He tried to say something, attempted to walk up to Bill, and tripped. His last thought before he lost consciousness was regret at his inability to kill Malfoy.


	3. Episode I: chapter 2

**Chapter 2.**

_December 1998, 12 Grimmauld Place._

Harry had apologized repeatedly to Ron for the failed curse that humiliated him at the wedding. No matter how much Ron and Hermione told him that it was okay (Hermione fund the countercurse in moments), he felt guilty. Wasn't he the one who impressed on Ginny not to make a scene?

But since the wedding, even if Ron and Hermione saw him at least once a week, they were no longer the inseparable trio. The newlyweds still planned to move. Harry could, of course, join them, but something held him back.

Something. _Yeah, right,_ he thought. _Someone, and know precisely who, too_.

He considered taking an anti-love potion, but rejected the idea. His feelings for Ginny were not a minor infatuation, and they'd probably return with increased strength once he stopped taking it. He didn't want to have those feelings... he hated himself for having them... _Ginny betrayed us... all of us... look how she treated Ron and Hermione..._ but he couldn't stop himself. He should hate Ginny... and he couldn't.

"Harry!" a voice interrupted his thoughts. "You there?"

Harry headed to the fireplace to greet his visitor. "Hi, Neville," he said wearily. "Something to drink?"  
"No, thanks. So how're you?"

"As good as I can be," he answered. "How's Luna?"

"Running the _Quibbler_, now that her dad retired. She likes it," Neville said.

Harry nodded. Neville was careful not to flaunt _his_ happiness in front of him. Harry wasn't sure if he was grateful or annoyed.

"When's the wedding?" he asked, half in jest. "You need a best man? 'Cause that's about all I'm good for. And not doing a very good job, either, if my last time is any indication."

"A few months before you have to worry about that," Neville replied. "And you've got to—"

"I know. Get over. Don't you think I wish I could?" Harry frowned. "I never thought I'd understand how Snape felt."

"What?" Neville exclaimed. "What does Snape have to do with anything?"

Harry sighed. He learned this from Snape himself, right before he was—surprisingly for everyone—killed by Wormtail. In school, Snape had loved Harry's mother, Lily Evans. His dislike for his father turned to loathing when James started pursuing Lily himself, and morphed into hatred when they started dating. Snape hated him—a constant reminder of the love he'd lost.

"At Hogwarts, Snape was in love with my mother," Harry said. "And I look just like my father—"

"Except for the eyes," Neville said, smiling.

Harry managed to look into his eyes. "Well, when Snape told me, I had plenty of my own reasons to hate him, so I snapped that he shouldn't have called my mother a Mudblood, and he might have had a chance. He didn't take that well. Now, though..."

"I never knew," Neville whispered. "I thought he just hated Gryffindors in general... he wouldn't have loved my mother, as well?" Neville said, frightened.

"As far as I know, no. But it was different with you. You were afraid of him, and so you bungled up potions—like all of us, except Hermione. And the way he would criticize you gave you more reasons to be afraid. You never had classes with Slughorn—I'm sure you'd be quite good with potions, with your knowledge of plants and all."

Neville nodded. "Speaking of which, they're reopening Hogwarts next year, and I got the Herbology Professor job, now that Sprout is Headmistress." He then looked at Harry carefully. "The Defense position is still open."

"No," Harry replied. "And this is precisely why I said I understand Snape. I understand why he did what he was doing to me. What if I become like him? What if I start bullying Ginny and Malfoy's kids?"

Neville didn't argue. Instead, he paced the room for a few minutes. "You shouldn't waste your life in here. You need to go out and do _something_. You wanted to be an Auror, didn't you? In your fifth year, you talked about that a lot. Well, they are recruiting... the force has to be rebuilt after the war killed so many."

Harry's first impulse was to reject this idea. He only wanted to join the Aurors so he could fight Voldemort. Since he would be doing that anyway, and since Voldemort was gone, there seemed no point. Now... now it would at least give him a goal to strive for. He doubted it'd help him get over Ginny, of course...

But then again, it might. That wouldn't happen if he sat her brooding day after day. "I'll think about it," he said finally. "Thanks, Neville."

"Hey, anytime," Neville patted him on the back before heading towards the fireplace. "I'll see you around."

Harry gave him a small smile. "Say hi to Luna for me," he said, as Neville vanished into flames.

An Auror. Since he couldn't have what he wanted most, this was the next best thing. And it'd give him a reason to stay in England, even if Ron and Hermione left. _I'd better tell them_, he thought.

He didn't even consider sharing his decision with Ginny.


	4. Episode I: chapter 3

**Chapter 3.**

_April 1999, Malfoy Manor._

Ginny hat sent out invitations to her three surviving brothers. None of them came. She didn't sent an invitation to Harry, but he came anyway. He didn't know what compelled him to do it. Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Luna all urged him against it. He could see their point... but none of them were in love with Ginny. And so he was here, under his invisibility cloak, watching Ginny and Malfoy together.

The wedding was much smaller than Ron and Hermione's had been—the Malfoys didn't have many relatives and most of the Weasley clan agreed with Ron, Bill, and Percy on the matter. Blaise Zabini was acting as best man. Harry didn't see either Crabbe or Goyle—maybe Malfoy didn't want them to embarrass him. Harry felt sick.

The smile Malfoy had plastered on his face nearly made Harry lose control again. It was the same smirk he wore at the end of fourth year, when he laughed about Cedric being "the first". Ginny was at his side back then...

She looked beautiful. Harry wanted to do something... anything to stop this. Wild fantasies filled his mind... at one point, he was ready to grab her, summon his broomstick and fly off... maybe something would change... maybe she'd love him again... why did he leave her in the first place? He laughed. _I left her to protect her._ From whom? _From the likes of Malfoy._ That worked well. _Yeah. I know._

Harry barely listened to the actual ceremony. If he saw one hint that Ginny wasn't happy, that she wanted to be elsewhere, he probably would have acted on it. But she didn't, no matter how much Harry forced himself to watch. But once the couple looked up and smiled, Harry made his move. He stepped right up to the altar and took off his cloak.

"Harry!" Ginny screamed. She obviously didn't expect this.

"Potter," Malfoy said.

"You weren't invited." Blaise Zabini moved towards him but stopped as soon as Harry drew his wand.

"No," Harry said, shifting his eyes from Malfoy to Ginny. "I wasn't. I wonder why..."

"I assumed you wouldn't want to come," Ginny said.

"I didn't. But neither did your brothers, and _they_ got invitations."

"The—" Ginny covered her mouth, but Harry knew what she was about to say.

"I see," he sneered. "They're family. So despite everything, it's still about blood. Nice to know."

"Harry—"

"Spare me your pity, Ginny! I don't want it—I never did! But then, I'm just a dirty rotten half-blood who isn't good enough for our princess! Right?" Ginny reeled back in shock, Malfoy started drawing his wand, but Harry put his own wand to his throat. "One word, and Ginny will be a widow," he said. Malfoy stepped back. Harry turned back to Ginny. "You wanted yourself a nice, proper pureblood husband? Well, you've got one! Enjoy!" And he Disapparated.

Ron was waiting for him at Grimmauld Place. "How was it?"

"Bad. Even threatening Malfoy didn't make it fun." He paced the room. "I wonder what Dumbledore would say about this."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he always emphasized two things. The first was that our choices make us who we are. The second is that love is a powerful magic in its own right."

"So?" Ron asked.

"So... choices and love. And yet... I can't choose not to love Ginny. I shouldn't love her... I should hate her, especially after the way she treated you and Hermione. But I don't. I can't! I hate myself for still loving her instead, and I can't help it!"

Ron patted him on the back. "I'm not blaming you, Harry. I know perfectly well you can't control feelings like that. Will you be all right, mate? Once Hermione and I leave—"

"I'll live," Harry cut him off. "And it's not like I won't be able to see you. I will just need a Portkey, and it's not like I can't afford it. Don't worry. I'm busy with Auror training right now. I won't sit here and brood."

"All right. You'll come tomorrow, to see us off?"

"Of course I will. I'll see you."

As Ron left via the Floo Powder, Harry muttered to himself, "Why _can't_ we choose whom we love?"

No one had an answer for him. Harry found himself thinking about Ginny. He knew he shouldn't have been thinking this... but he wished Malfoy would turn out to be a bad husband and that Ginny would leave and run to him.

He should have remembered an old proverb. _Be careful what you wish for. You might get it._


	5. Episode I: chapter 4

**Chapter 4.**

_August 1999, 12 Grimmauld Place._

Harry lifted himself out of bed and stretched out. A limp form of a woman next to him hadn't stirred, apparently in deep sleep.

Harry didn't wake her up. Why bother? They met at a bar where Harry often went after his day of training. They flirted, got drunk, and Harry brought her over. They fucked, and that was it. They both knew it meant nothing. No matter what anyone said, Harry knew he wasn't ready for a real relationship so soon after... He poured himself a glass of bourbon and emptied it. Silently, he wondered if he ever would be.

Harry was doing decently in his Auror training, despite the hole in his heart. The instructors, while they respected him, pulled no punches when he would do something wrong. He found it refreshing. Aside from his friends, they were the only ones who didn't line up to take pictures with him wherever he went.

Harry put on a bathrobe and descended downstairs. He recently seemed to sleep more in the armchair than in his bed. Neville and Luna were still on their honeymoon, Ron and Hermione were far away, and Harry felt more alone than ever.

He started to doze off when inhuman shrieks raised him. Sirius' mother's portrait was screaming curses in reaction to the doorbell. Harry ran into the corridor and shut the curtains. Then he opened the front door.

He couldn't believe his eyes. Standing on his doorstep, her hair a messy tangle waving in the wind, her clothes apparently thrown on in a hurry, was Ginny.

"Harry," she croaked, "help me."

Harry considered slamming the door in her face, but before he could, his arms extended and Ginny leaped in. She was sobbing into his shoulder as he led her into the house.

"Ginny, what happened?"

"Draco and I had a fight," she said.

Rage filled Harry. "What did that scumbag do?"

Ginny looked at him oddly, but said nothing. Harry carried her upstairs, right to the bathroom door. "First, clean yourself up. Did he..." As he got a closer look, he had to suppress the rage again. "I could—"

"I don't need you to hover over me," she said in annoyance before he finished telling her that recognized the curses she'd been subjected to, and that Malfoy could be sent to prison for using them.

An hour later, Ginny was sitting in the living room, drinking hot tea. Harry sat in silence, watching her. Part of him wanted to grab Ginny and pull her into his arms, part wanted nothing to do with her, and part was ashamed at being glad this happened—not that Ginny got cursed, of course, but that she apparently left Malfoy. If he knew Ginny—

"Well, Harry?" she prompted, placing her teacup on the table.

"Well, what?" he retorted.

"Aren't you interested in what happened?"

"You told me," he said.

"You don't want the details?"

"Ginny, if you don't want to tell me, that's all right. If you do, that's also all right. But I don't know what you want—apparently, I never did," he added bitterly. "I won't demand answers."

Ginny didn't reply, and resumed drinking her tea. "How's everyone?" she asked.

"Why do you want to know?"

"Harry, please. I care, despite what you think—"

Harry didn't say what he felt an urge to. _You have a funny way of showing it_. But instead, he answered the question.

"Hermione and Ron are doing fine," he said. "They're about to have a child. Neville and Luna are married. Bill and Fleur are in France, so I haven't heard much from them. Percy plans to run for Minister of Magic in the next election. I think he might win, too."

"What about you?" she asked.

"I'm training to be an Auror," he replied.

"Just like you wanted," she whispered.

At that point, a noise was heard from upstairs, and the woman—Samantha something, Harry remembered now—appeared. She narrowed her gaze on Harry.

"I understand a one night stand meant just that—that _for the night_, you're mine," she said. "I can't believe that you consider even that too much of a commitment."

Ginny quickly covered her mouth. "Something unexpected came up," Harry said.

"Apparently so." She headed upstairs without another word. A Disapparition pop followed seconds later.

"Something unexpected?" Ginny looked at him, still stifling giggles. "That was the worst excuse I've ever heard."

"It was true."

"Doesn't stop it from being ridiculous."

"Ginny, you're the last person I'm going to discuss my love life with," Harry said sharply. Then, more gently, he asked her, "What are you going to do?"

"Spend the night here—I've got nowhere else to go. Who decided to ward the Burrow against me? Bill? Ron? Percy?"

"All of them, actually," Harry said. "But you can't live here—"

"I don't intend to. I'll be going home—"

"Home?" And then it hit him what she meant. "Ginny, you can't—"

"Can't what?"

"Ginny, he cursed you! You can't go back to him!"

"How do you know Draco cursed me?"

"You think I don't recognize what those injuries were?"

"And why do you jump to the conclusion that it was Draco? We love each other, Harry! We'll work this out."  
"Ginny, you should report it to the Ministry."

"I will do no such thing! And you won't either!" she added, apparently seeing Harry's intention. "If you do, I will deny everything. And unlike you, I'll be telling the truth!"

"Ginny..."

"Don't 'Ginny' me, Potter. You helped. Thanks. That doesn't mean that Draco and I stopped loving each other."

"Listen to yourself, Ginny! I really don't like this," he muttered.

"Of course you don't."

"You don't look like the Ginny I knew."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what I said. You broke up with Corner over a Quidditch game. You broke up with Dean because he was coddling you. You left me for no reason I can see. Malfoy cursed you—and you go back go him? What did he do to you?"  
Ginny pulled out her wand. "Stay away from my husband, do you hear? He wasn't the one that cursed me!"

"Then who—"

"Why do you care? All you want is dirt on Draco, just because you're jealous! You never liked him, and I don't expect you to, but accept the fact that we love each other! We don't need you! I can now see that coming here was a mistake. I won't be making it again." She Disapparated before Harry could get in a word.

Harry wanted to scream. Ginny seemed more angry at him than at Malfoy, and she went back to him. _What did he do to her?_

A new day was dawning. Somehow, Harry doubted it would be a happy one.


	6. Episode I: chapter 5

**Chapter 5.**

_October 1999, Auror training camp._

"I spotted you from a mile away, Potter."

"Sorry. I..."

"You keep this up, and we'll have to cut you from the program," Kingsley Shacklebot said. "Your status notwithstanding. Good job finding him, Patil."

"Thank you, sir."

"Very well. I do expect better performance for you tomorrow."

Harry nodded, and, bidding goodbye to Kingsley, Apparated to the Leaky Cauldron. Padma, who left several minutes earlier, waited there for him.

"That's the third time this week I've done better than you," Padma said.

"Aren't you proud?" Harry retorted snarkily and began eating his dinner.

"There's no need to for that tone," Padma said. "I'm just surprised. You used to outpace me by a huge margin."

"Must be your Ravenclaw knowledge coming through."

"We both know that's bullshit. Something's the matter."

"Oh yeah? What?"

"I was hoping to find out."

"Well, keep hoping. I'd rather keep this to myself."

There was a silence for a few minutes as the two Aurors-in-training finished their meals. They had dinners like this routinely—usually discussing the day's training. They hadn't really discussed the issues that plagued them, the grief they had felt at losing someone very close... but they did gravitated towards each other because of it. Harry, in any case, was not ready. He knew Padma was right—his performance in training had been sagging. He even knew why.

"Potter... Harry."

"What?"

"You really should stop acting like everyone is out to get you. They aren't... not anymore."

In better times, Harry might have considered that funny. "Maybe not. I isn't much of a relief."

"I want to help."

"Well, you can't."

"On the contrary, it seems I'm the only one who can—seeing as how all your other friends have hooked up."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're so transparent, Harry. It's about Ginny, right? You can't get over her."

Anger swelled up in Harry. While what Padma said was true, that wasn't the reason for his poor performance in training.

The truth was both simpler and more complicated. Ever since Ginny, despite being beaten, went back to Malfoy, he'd been researching the subject of domestic abuse. It wasn't encouraging. Too many women behaved exactly like Ginny did—after running away and staying with a friend for a while, they went back to the abusive husband. They seemed to truly love these men. Harry didn't think Ginny fit the profile of an abuse victim... but the facts showed otherwise. And he had no idea what he'd do if it happened again.

He suppressed the urge to lash out at Padma. None of this was her fault.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have brought it—"

"Forget it," Harry said.

She shook her head.

"I know, I know," he replied. "I should try to get over it. Date other people. Maybe I'll find someone else."

"It's good advice," Padma said.

"Yeah, well, why don't you try being me. How am I supposed to know if the girl isn't after my fame, or my Gringotts account?"  
"Well, the best way is to date someone you already know... a friend. And where did you pick up such a low opinion of women?"  
"I don't have a low opinion of women, I have a low opinion of people who don't see me as anything but "that guy with the scar" and don't try to. And as you so kindly phrased it, all my friends are 'hooked up'."

"I believe I said all your _other_ friends were hooked up."

"What do you—oh. You're asking me out?"

"Well, we can try it. It might work, or not. What do we have to lose?"

Harry muttered something.

"What? Surprised?"

"Yes. I thought..."

"What?"

"Well... there were rumors at Hogwarts..."

"Yes?"

"I'm not sure I should tell you—"

"Spit it out."

"Well, the rumors were that you and Parvati... uhm... preferred women?"

"And you believed them?" Padma narrowed her eyes.

"I didn't really think about it. But I heard the rumors, and I didn't know you well enough for certain. Look, I don't mind..."

"Padma cut him off. "There was some substance to that rumor," she said.

"You're a lesbian?"

"Bisexual, actually. So yes, we could go out, Harry. I don't have anyone right now—male or female."

Harry shook his head. I don't think I'm ready for a romantic relationship. Not yet. It wouldn't be fair to you. Trust me, I'm hardly a prize right now."

Padma shrugged. "Just don't reject the possibility completely. I like you, Harry, and you're my friend. As I said, we can try it."

"Padma... thanks. This means a lot to me. I'll see you tomorrow."

He got back to Grimmauld Place and thought about what Padma said. Under other circumstances, he may have seriously thought about a romantic relationship with her. But now...

Harry lit a lamp and prepared himself for another night of research into a personal and depressing topic.


	7. Episode I: chapter 6

**Chapter 6.**

_February 2000, 12 Grimmauld Place._

A letter an owl just brought fell on the kitchen table.

Rejected. The Auror program was rejecting him.

He had no one but himself to blame, of course. He wasn't putting in enough effort—because he was researching domestic abuse. He couldn't forget Ginny, or give up on her—and he tried. Maybe it was too soon. Maybe Padma wasn't the right woman—there was nothing wrong... well, yes there was. Padma wasn't Ginny. And that wasn't something either of them could do anything about. But no matter how nice, funny, or pretty she was, Harry felt that they'd never have anything beyond friendship.

Friendship... with benefits. Despite all her outward cheer, Padma was still grieving deeply for the loss of her sister. She wasn't intend on settling down with anyone yet—even if she liked him enough to let him into her bed. In some ways, he envied her. Parvati was taken away by death. Harry lost Ginny no less deeply, but Ginny was still there. She _chose_ to leave him. That hurt far more than the loss itself.

But he was alone now. Padma would be very disappointed at finding this out, of course. He could easily imagine what she'd say... "It's not the end of the world... you can always apply again... and training or not, you're better than I am at fighting." No matter how true this was, he didn't want to hear it.

A loud knock outside brought out the portrait's wails. Harry struggled to close the curtains and opened the door.

"Ginny!" he exclaimed. She stepped in. Now, there was no mistake. She'd been cursed and beaten—possibly not just with fists, either. In her hand, she clutched a broken wand, held together by splinters. How she Apparated with that...

"Come on," he said, almost carrying her upstairs. He got out his healing potions. "Damn," he frowned. As an Auror trainee, he was provided with a steady supply—but that was over, and he wasn't keen on making these potions himself.

He lathered her bruises, fed her a pain relief potion, and had her lie down. She told him she wasn't hungry, so he simply brewed a pot of tea and placed a hot, steaming cup in front of her.

Ginny quietly sipped the tea. Harry sat across from her, watching intently, but not asking any questions.

"Harry, stop that."

"Stop what?"

"Pretending you aren't curious."

"I am not. I'm waiting till you're ready to tell me."

"You can ask."

"What did he do to you?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing that causes you to show up here at one in the morning, nearly dead? Ginny, you didn't get this hurt when you faced Death Eaters!"  
"Draco did nothing—"

"And that's better? He's letting his wife to come to this?"

"Harry, you just don't understand—"

"Then explain! Start by telling me what you got beaten up with."

"What do you mean, with what?"  
"Ginny, I know what bruises made by fists look like. I should, considering how much I had been on the receiving end. What you came in with today... that was more serious."

"A Beater's club," Ginny whispered.

Harry sat back, numb. "I'll kill him," he announced. "I. Will. Kill. Him."

"Harry, don't."

"Ginny, you can't think of going back to him!"

She stood up and placed her hands on her hips. "I am. We love each—"

"Some love," Harry said. "A Beater's club—"

"I said he did nothing!"

"Exactly. _He. Did. Nothing._"

"Just because it's not perfect—"

"Not perfect?! Ginny, look at yourself! Is this what the rest of your life going to be? Periodically beaten and running to me to patch you up? What if I am not here?"

"I can take care of myself, Harry."

"Can you?" he asked.

"I hadn't come here to argue." She paused. "Can you get me a drink?"

"You've taken to drink? I guess I shouldn't be surprised. And you're telling me you're all right?"  
"Just get me a drink, Harry."

He shook his head, but went into the kitchen. He just had an idea... that could solve everything. He returned with a bottle of cognac a few minutes later. Pouring some into two glasses, he lifted his.

"To safety," he said.

Ginny nodded and dumped the drink into her mouth. She gasped. "Har—"

Harry caught her as she dropped to the floor. He shook his head. The sleeping potion turned out to be more powerful than he thought.

Harry set his own drink aside—his plan required complete clarity of thought. He gently lay Ginny down on a couch and covered her with a blanket. Then, heading upstairs, he retrieved his invisibility cloak and broomstick, and checked his wand.

"Goodbye, Ginny," he said, before leaning down and kissing her. "I love you."

He wrapped himself in the cloak, stepped out the door, got on his Firebolt, and took off.


	8. Episode I: chapter 7

**Chapter 7.**

Harry shivered from the cold, attempting to hold his place in a strong gust of wind. He approached Malfoy Manor. The place used to have wards around it, but they were broken during the war, and Draco Malfoy wasn't a skilled enough wizard to put them back. Harry got through with no problem.

The Manor was mostly dark, but several windows had flickering lights in them. Harry approached the window, but saw nothing but the lights. Frustrated, he turned away, softly landing next to the Malfoy's shed. Entering it, he hid his Firebolt among the other broomsticks. Tightly wrapping the invisibility cloak around him, he headed towards the house.

Going through the door was out of the question, but he spotted an open window on the second floor. He raised his wand, and a rope with a hook flew out of it. He climbed up that rope and entered the house.

_Malfoy is not paranoid enough_, Harry thought. Then he crouched down. Voices were coming from downstairs.

Harry climbed out of the room—it appeared to be a study—and entered the hallway. The place was lighted with candles and a burning fireplace. Three people, all wearing black robes, were below.

Malfoy sat in an armchair, one leg over another. He held a glass of wine in his hands. "She's harmless as a Squib," he said. "Whatever it is, it works."

Rage stirred up Harry. _How dare he talk about Ginny like that? _Especially—

"Of course. Now, all we need to do is wait. Potter is such a hothead—"

Bellatrix Lestrange. Harry gasped.

"What was that?" the third person said, one whose voice Harry didn't recognize.

"Probably just the wind," Malfoy replied, sounding bored. "You still haven't told me what your plan entails."

"All in good time, Draco," Bellatrix said. "Just keep working on your _wife_."

"It's a pleasure. Especially hearing from the Ministry how Potter's going crazy. Did you hear they dropped him from the Auror program?"

Using every ounce of his willpower to keep quiet, Harry continued listening. _What are they up to?_

Another thought entered his mind, a very unpleasant one. _Does Ginny know? Did she just lie to me?_ He hoped not. _If she did..._

_Don't think about it._

"Oh, yes, I knew that," Bellatrix said.

"The idiots at the Ministry did something right for once."

"Right?" the unknown man asked thoughtfully. "Maybe, but I don't think so. It's not good for us. We knew roughly where he was before. Now..."

"Wherever he is, he's pining for my wife and won't do anything."

"Wrong, Malfoy," Harry said, standing up and raising his wand.

Bellatrix and the other man both drew their wands, but Harry was faster. He hit Bellatrix with a stunner, and dropped her. The other Death Eater missed with his curse, and Harry leaped over the railing, falling onto the floor of the living room. His spell blasted the man into the wall. He landed, and, fury in his eyes, moved on Malfoy. But instead of drawing his wand, Malfoy simply made a gesture with his hands.

Long green tendrils popped out of several pots standing around the room and lunged for Harry. He raised a Shield Charm, dodged several green snake-like appendages, and incinerated a few more. But then two tentacles curved around his ankles and pulled him down. He blasted one of them with his wand, but felt something cold at the other ankle. Then, the cold rapidly engulfed his body, his eyelids dropped, and he lost his senses.

XXX

He woke up hearing voices. He tried to move, but both his wrists and ankles were restrained. He then opened his eyes.

"Your time of playing hero is over, Potter," Malfoy said.

Harry turned to look at him. "So you and the rest of your Death Eater buddies decided to turn themselves in?"

"Very funny, Potter. Admit it—you lost the game."

"Game?!" Harry shouted. "_Game_?! This is a _**GAME**_ to you?! YOU SCUM! GINNY IS THE MOST WONDERFUL WOMAN IN THE WORLD, AND YOU TREAT HER LIKE SHIT—"

"I told you he was a hothead," Bellatrix stepped out from behind.

Harry stopped speaking.

"What? Don't I rate as good as my nephew? Don't I get to hear praises of my late cousin?"  
Harry twisted his face. "Fuck you," he said.

"I'd rather not. A dirty half-blood—"

"Just like your precious Dark Lord."

"That's enough!" the third Death Eater yelled.

"You're right, of course. It is time."

Harry watched the man. He wasn't very tall, but was powerfully built. He had short cropped brown hair and cold dark eyes. Harry felt his mind probed, and hat to concentrate to deflect the Legilimency. The man glared at him and took out a wand. Harry gulped. It was his.

"Potter's broomstick in the shed. Potter's cloak in the parlor. Potter was jealous of Draco's wife," he said.

Malfoy stood up. "What do you mean, Aunt Bella? What're you going to do with Potter?"

"The Dark Lord will return again," she said.

"Voldemort is dead!" Harry shouted. "I killed him!"

"_You_, destroy the most powerful wizard of all time? That's a laugh," Bella said. "The Dark Lord will rise again."

"Bull—"

"And this time, Harry Potter won't be around to work against him," the man said.

"Really? Where am I going to be?"

"In Azkaban, Potter. Serving a life sentence."

"For what?"

"Hund?" Malfoy asked.

"For this," Hund replied. He raised Harry's wand and pointed it at Malfoy.

Draco couldn't believe his eyes. "What—?!" he exclaimed, drawing his own wand. But he had no time to get a spell off.

"_Avada Kedavra!_" Hund said. A flash of green light popped out of Harry's wand. Malfoy was dead.

Harry couldn't believe his eyes. But then, why should he have been surprised? Blood relation hardly mattered to Bellatrix. It was she who was rumored to have killed Andromeda Tonks, her own sister.

"You know this won't work," Harry said. "I'll provide them with a Pensieve memory—"

Hund aimed Harry's own wand at him. Bellatrix nodded.

The Death Eater focused his eyes on Harry. Harry couldn't even come up with an insult. Hund didn't flinch.

"_Obliviate!_" he cried.


	9. Episode I: chapter 8

**Chapter 8. **

_March 2000, Ministry of Magic._

In his fourth year, Harry fell into Dumbledore's Pensieve, and watched the trials of Death Eaters after the first war. He had never imagined that one day, he'd end up in the same chair, bound and awaiting the verdict... for doing something he didn't remember doing.

Percy Weasley—the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement—came to see him and suggested he could get him a reduced sentence if he confessed to killing Malfoy. Harry was tempted, but refused—while he didn't regret Malfoy's death, he couldn't remember killing him, and he doubted that he'd cast a memory charm on himself. He wouldn't plead guilty.

Ron and Hermione visited once, and it was painful. Hermione was silent the whole time, and Ron looked at Harry like he was an exotic animal, and muttered, "How did you get caught?"

Harry begged them not to come to the trial, to spare themselves more pain, and in the end, they reluctantly agreed. They wouldn't see him get convicted, at least.

Harry attempted to bring up Draco's domestic abuse, but Ginny's testimony killed that defense, if it ever was one, as she denied being beaten. She also (truthfully, Harry had to admit under oath) claimed he'd tricked her with a sleeping potion and declared his intention to kill Malfoy aloud. Harry _did_ remember that he also remembered leaving to go to Malfoy Manor... and then... nothing. He certainly didn't remember arriving.

He was also forced to identify the Firebolt, the invisibility cloak, and the wand found on the Malfoy estate as his own. That clenched the case. The wand's last two spells were a Memory Charm and a Killing Curse. In part, this convinced even Harry himself that he indeed had flown to the Malfoy Manor, located Draco, killed him, and then erased his memory to avoid prosecution. _If I did that,_ he mused, _it didn't work out too good._

"All in favor of acquittal?" the Minister of Magic asked the rest of the Wizengamot.

One hand—Percy Weasley's—came up.

"All in favor of conviction?"

Everyone else voted now.

"Harry James Potter, you have been charged with and found guilty of murder of one Draco Lucius Malfoy. Under the Unforgivable Act of 1894, I sentence you to life imprisonment in Azkaban prison."

Two Aurors led him out of the courtroom. At the exit, he looked up and met Ginny's eyes. He had the urge to shout out that he loved her, to demand to know why she covered up for Malfoy to sent him to prison, but something rose in his throat to suppress his voice and tears welled up in his eyes.

_That's the problem,_ he thought bitterly. _I love her—even now, even after all this. I have no idea why, but if she, right now, declared her love for me, I would run into her arms and forgive her for everything. Even though my mind tells me a thousand times over that I shouldn't._

Harry sighed. That was a hypothetical, and it would remain a hypothetical. His real future could be summarized in one word. Azkaban.


	10. Interlude 1

**Interlude.**

_October 2001, Azkaban cemetery._

_Famous since he was one year old for somehow destroying the powers of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and thereby ending the first war, even more praised for destroying that dark wizard permanently and ending his reign of terror, and more recently, infamous due to his highly publicized trial for the murder of Draco Malfoy, apparently as a result of jealousy over Malfoy's wife, Harry Potter, age 21, died today in Azkaban prison, where he was serving a life sentence for said murder._

_ -_start of the lead article of the _Daily Prophet, _October 30, 2001

Criminals who died in Azkaban rarely had anyone come to their funerals, which tended to be quick affairs, so that sometimes they were over by the time the notified relatives arrived—if they did. This one had a number of attendees, however. One of them was a short witch with long red hair. She watched the coffin lowered into the ground, and cried.

"I loved you, Harry," she whispered.

"Well, you've got a funny way of showing it," a voice said from behind.

She turned. Ron and Hermione stood there, glaring at her. Hermione had a small baby in her arms.

"Ron, I—"

"We didn't come here to talk to you," he cut her off.

Ginny looked as if she was hit. "You don't—"

Ron drew his wand. "You drove him to this. Don't even think you have an excuse." There was fire in his eyes, and it was obvious that Hermione, even though she was a bit occupied with the baby, agreed with her husband's every word.

"Damn it!" Ginny swore, and ran past them. She needed to be alone... she had no idea what really happened to her...

"Greetings, Mrs. Malfoy."

The voice jarred her. She turned, and saw a short, stocky man, about forty, with shortly cropped dark brown hair.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

"A genius," he replied. He spoke with an American accent he was unsuccessfully trying to hide.

"What do you want?"

"You, of course."

Ginny couldn't believe her ears. "What?"

"Oh. That's not what I mean. I do have a girlfriend, and I prefer older women, anyway. I mean I want you to work for us."

"And what is this 'us'?"

"Sorry, Mrs. Malfoy. You can find that out only if you join."

"And why should I?"

"Come on, Mrs. Malfoy. Your family wants nothing to do with you. Your so-called friends left you because they disapproved of your marriage. You lost the man you loved—"

"Just who are you referring to with that last one?"

"The late Mr. Malfoy, of course."

"I loved _Harry._"

"Nonsense, Mrs. Malfoy. That is your name, isn't it? Not Mrs. Potter?"  
"I married—"

"Mr. Malfoy. And Mr. Potter was the one to ruin—"

This angered Ginny to such an extent that it shocked even her. "Now look here, mister. I have no idea who you are, why you've been prying into my life, but that stops now. And—"

The man went for his wand, and Ginny, reacting without thinking, hit him with a hex. The man stumbled, rubbing his sore chest.

"Last chance to come with me and enjoy a meaningful life, Mrs. Malfoy."

"I am not inclined to trust someone who won't even give me his name," she replied.

"My name's Alan Hund," he said.

"That tells me nothing."

"It's the nature of our organization. If you join, you will have the details. Perhaps more than you wish to know."

"And if I don't?"

"Then... you already know too much. A Memory—"

Ginny raised her wand to block it. The man whipped out his wand and fired a curse at her. She stumbled despite throwing up the shield in time. This man was powerful.

She tried to stun him, but missed. The man glared at her, but spoke instead of continuing the duel. "You'll regret this, Mrs. Malfoy."

"Oh, I'm sure," she said. "By the way, it's Miss Weasley."

The man said nothing before Disapparating. Ginny stood in silence, thinking. If she felt confused before meeting the mysterious Alan Hund, it was nothing to how she felt now.

Unfortunately, Hund was right in one aspect. She had neither friends nor family to whom she could turn for answers. She was on her own.


	11. Episode II: chapter 1

**Episode II: The Boundaries of Hatred**

**Chapter 1.**

_March 2002, Las Vegas, Nevada._

_If, even two years ago, someone told me I'd be doing this in the future—and like it—I'd have hexed them,_ Ron thought.

He was busy in the kitchen, keeping an eye on baby Caroline and another on the cooking dinner. He hoped Hermione wouldn't stay working late—she didn't do it often, but Ron always worried when she did—experimental magic could be dangerous, and that's what Hermione's job involved. Or at least, as much as she was allowed to tell Ron. That was the worst part of it—the need for secrecy. The argument over it nearly destroyed their marriage when Hermione was first offered it. He still dreaded the memories of those few weeks. He still didn't like it, though, and extracted a promise from Hermione that they would reconsider their arrangement in a few years, when Caroline was older. But for now, he was settled in, and didn't think he needed to regret anything. He had Hermione, he had Caroline, and he was happy.

A loud bang on the front door distracted him. Caroline sat up and began to crawl towards the sound. The bang was repeated three more times.

Ron didn't expect this. They rarely had guests, and when they did, they met them at a Portkey depot in the local office of the American Department of Magic. Their house had wards placed on it to prevent the Muggles in the neighborhood from noticing the magic in or around it. Hermione tutored him in Muggle ways, and in all the time they lived here, the Muggles suspected nothing. Still, Ron hoped this wasn't the Muggle authorities after them for some reason—he didn't fancy having to do any Memory Charms.

The knock repeated. Caroline was almost at the door when Ron picked her up. "No, no... let daddy deal with it first," he said, putting her back into the playpen. He then crossed the room and opened the door.

An instinct he developed in the war kicked in, and Ron had this wand at the ready before he knew it. The figure standing before him brought back the dreaded image... Fenrir Greyback, Voldemort's werewolf follower, ready to tear Hermione apart... Ron rushing the monster and tackling him to the ground... the werewolf overpowering him, trying to strangle him, his scarred, gray, animal face inches from his... Ron sticking his wand into Greyback's side... two words... the dead body falling on top of him... Ron, terrified of what he'd just done...

And the man standing in front of him now looked like Greyback reincarnated. Deeply sunk eyes stared at him, but he still couldn't tell what color they were. He had grayed, pasty skin, and long, dirty, unkempt black hair. The man's robes, also of an uncertain color, were barely more than rags. He looked more emaciated than Ron thought it was possible to be and remain alive.

Caroline saw the man, despite Ron standing in the doorway. She started crying.

This made Ron mad. He aimed his wand at the man. "Who are you?" he demanded

"Ron..." the man croaked, and collapsed, nearly falling on top of him. Ron kneeled, still holding the wand on him. But this was no trick—he nearly passed out. Ron took a closer look at his face.

That caused him to scream.


	12. Episode II: chapter 2

**Chapter 2.**

There is a place in the Nevada desert which very few people have seen, and even fewer have been inside. The lack of information doesn't stop people from speculating on what is really going on in there. Some ideas even come close.

Among other things, Area 51 has the largest group of Muggles who know about the wizarding world. Surprisingly, there is a great deal of cooperation between them and wizards—that is, after all, the facility's purpose. Area 51's research laboratories are devoted to experimental magic, experimental technology, and blends of the two. Although the technology eventually evolves beyond military applications, and the magic is taught at wizarding schools, the inventors, magical and Muggle, remain unknown. Even their immediate families are usually forbidden to know anything more than their spouse or child works at Area 51.

Hermione Granger-Weasley was one such person.

"Do you know the problem with computers?" Hermione asked her partner, a Muggle woman named Lydia Jones.

"There's no problem with computers," Jones replied. Hermione shook her head. Lydia was precisely the wrong person to ask that sort of question. _She_ never had trouble getting computers to dance to her tune. Hermione had heard rumors—unconfirmed, of course, as employees of Area 51 were forbidden to reveal such information—that Lydia ended up working here because she hacked Area 51's network, which was supposed to be impossible.

"The problem," Hermione said, "is that you can't hex them. Or rather, that you're going to end up with a pile of junk if you do."

"Well, excuse us Muggles for not being able to create computers that think for themselves," Jones said sarcastically. "Besides, if we did, what would people like me do?"

Hermione smiled. When they were assigned to work together, Lydia had been very excited about seeing magic at work. And they learned a lot from each other over these months. Hermione still wasn't sure what to make of Lydia's claim, after witnessing the process, that spell design was similar to computer programming, not knowing enough of the latter to judge. To Lydia, though, the similarity was perfectly clear.

The phone on Hermione's desk rang. She hoped it wasn't her supervisor, demanding progress on the (inaccurately named, according to Lydia) Digital Pensieve project. An attempt to transfer Pensieve images into computers so far produced nothing but headaches on both sides of the aisle. She picked up the phone.

"Granger-Weasley," she said.

"Hello, Granger-Weasley," Ron said, chuckling. "I'm sorry, Hermione, but I think you should come home as soon as you can."

He sounded worried. "Is Ca—"

"Caroline is fine," Ron reassured her. "It's... well, you'd better see it for yourself, or you won't believe me."

Ron seemed absolutely certain. "All right," she said.

"Thanks. Love you." He hung up.

"Family trouble?" Lydia asked.

"May be, but I don't think so. I haven't heard that tone from him since the war. Anyway, I'd better take a look what this is about. See you tomorrow, Lydia."

"Are you going to—" Lydia began, but Hermione already Disapparated. There was no need to bring Lydia into this, but she was far more worried than she let on. That she Apparated directly out of her office—something that violated workplace regulations of Area 51—indicated that.

"Ron, what—who's that?!" she demanded, seeing a sleeping man lying on their living room couch. "What did you—"

"Take a closer look, Hermione," he said.

She did. To her surprise, she recognized some of the man's features, and then her eyes jumped to his forehead. "Ron, you couldn't—"

"He had it covered by makeup when he arrived," Ron said. "That convinced me. No, it isn't Polyjuice. I don't think you can use if the real person is dead, and it would have worn off by now."

Hermione looked from the man on the couch to her husband. "How?" she asked.

"I think we'll have to ask him ourselves. But let's let him have something to it first, okay? Just look at him." Hermione had to agree. The man definitely hadn't been following proper nutrition.

Hermione approached and put her hand on his cheek. "Harry," she whispered.


	13. Episode II: chapter 3

**Chapter 3.**

Harry Potter stirred, turned, and opened his eyes. He reached in front of him, trying to grab Hermione.

"Harry," Hermione repeated.

"Her—Hermione?" he asked

"Yes," she replied. "What—"

Ron gave her a glare, ans she stopped. "Drink this," Ron said, putting a cup of thick liquid to his lips.

Harry gulped it down. "Let me get you some food," Ron said. As soon as he had the plate, Harry began eating greedily. "Thanks, mate," he managed after he finished. "Can—"

"No," Hermione said. "Harry, if you haven't eaten in a long time, your stomach may rupture if it takes in too much at once." Instead, Hermione drew her wand and conjured up a pair of glasses. Here you go," she said, putting them on Harry.

"Thanks, Hermione."

"It's really you, then?" Ron asked.

"Of course it's me—" Ron embraced him.

"Ron, you'll break my ribs," Harry said.

"Sorry."

"Look, it's not that I'm not happy about this," Hermione said, smiling, but... officially, you're dead, and if you aren't, you were supposed to be in Azkaban."

Harry looked at her. "I escaped," he said.

"You pulled a Sirius Black?" Ron asked.

"More like a Barty Crouch Jr.," Harry replied. "A fake death—"

"What—you planned that?!" Hermione demanded.

Harry nodded. "It was the only way to escape without putting the entire wizarding world on alert. That's why,"—he looked carefully at them— "it took me so long to get here." He paused. "I now know what squirrel, rat, lizard, snake, toad, and earthworm taste like."

Ron made a disgusted noise. Hermione simply shook her head. "Why did you have to be so far away?" Harry asked.

"Harry," Hermione ignored his question, "why didn't you escape immediately?"

"I couldn't. You know had a Memory Charm placed on me. I didn't remember what happened that night..."

"But you remember now?" Hermione said. Harry nodded.

"Dementors made me relieve my worst memories. And although suppressed by the charm, that night ranked among them. The Dementors exposed it, and when I learned what happened, I knew I had to escape. So I did."

"How?" Ron asked.

"No... what did you learn?"

"Bellatrix Lestrange and someone named Hund—"

"Hund... I heard that name somewhere..." Hermione said. "But I can't remember."

Harry continued. "They wanted me to end up in Azkaban. They framed me for the murder. Hund killed Malfoy."

"But why?"

"I don't know. I plan to find out."

"We'll help—"

"No. Please. Listen, you have a life, a family—"

"You're part of our family," Ron said.

"Yeah, but you shouldn't go after me in whatever crazy quest I'm on."

"At least stay with us a few days. You can't go out there looking like you do now. What happened?"

"Like I said, I had to escape, and I had to do it without Bellatrix and Hund knowing about it. That meant the Crouch Jr. method—or at least a variation thereof. No one replaced me—they didn't have to."

"Harry, I can see there are things you're not telling us," Hermione said.

Harry nodded. "Trust me, you'd rather not know." He said it so firmly that Hermione decided to stop the inquiry.

"Mate, this may sound rude, but... we believed you were dead, and opened your will."

"Did you spend all my money?"

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed. "We kept it perfectly safe. And you really shouldn't have—"

"Who else could I give it to? No family, no children, no wife..." He said that last part bitterly. "It's the least I could do for two people who are starting a new life after standing by me in everything since I was eleven. And no, I don't want it back. Definitely not now, when Hund and Bellatrix can get word of it. I want them to keep thinking I am dead."

"And what are you planning to do about them?"

"I need them to clear my name," he said. "I also have no intention of letting them carry out their plans, whatever they are."

"But if you're going to travel, you'll need money," Hermione said. She thought for a moment. "I'll arrange a few accounts for you, and transfer the money, so you can live in either the wizarding or Muggle community. And I'll try to find out who Hund is—I'm sure I read the name somewhere at work."

Caroline started crying upstairs. Hermione and Ron got up simultaneously, and laughed. "I'll go," Hermione said.

When she left, Ron gave Harry a careful look. "Mate, there's something you should know. At your funeral..." Ron paused, since that sounded weird. "At your funeral, we met Ginny."

Harry opened his mouth. "And?" he asked quickly.

"She said she loved you," Ron said reluctantly. I don't—"

"Thanks, Ron."

"What—? You don't think of—"

"I don't know, Ron! I just don't know!" Harry exploded. "Ever since she agreed to marry Malfoy—or maybe before that, since we didn't have much contact—it's been like she's two different people—the Ginny we knew, and someone else. But I do know something for certain—I'm not ready to face here. Not yet."

Ron considered that. He finally broke up the silence with the dreaded question. "Do you love her?"  
Harry looked at him, paced the room a few times, and breathed heavily. "Yes," he said. "That isn't the problem—or maybe that is _the_ problem. I look at other women—or I used to, before I starved too much to do it—and it's like they all have neon signs flashing "NOT GINNY!" over their heads." He shuddered. "You have no idea how lucky you are."

Ron shrugged. "After all that happened, we're all lucky to be alive."

Harry could only nod. He had absolutely no doubts that, had he not escaped, the funeral Ron, Hermione, and Ginny came to would have been quite real.


	14. Note

Not an update. More of a combination of Author's Note and a rant.

I don't like to keep replying to reviews with essentially the same message. So here it goes:

FFN does not list stories by pairing. If it did, I either a)not list a pairing at all, or b)list multiple pairings, so as not to give away the ending. Also, it's not certain whether **any** pairing qualifies to define this story.

What I do know is that, if I did list this story under multiple pairings, Harry/Hermione _wouldn't be one of them._

I have no intention of writing that pairing in this story. I have never implied any such thing, anywhere.

What I did, and what FFN menu allows me to do, is **list Harry and Hermione as main characters.** While Harry is more central to the story than Hermione, that is still the case. This has absolutely nothing to do with romance, for either of them.

Main characters. Not romantic partners.

That is all. Update is coming soon. No, it still won't be Harry/Hermione.


	15. Episode II: chapter 4

**Chapter 4.**

_April 2002, Salem, Massachusetts._

Harry was extremely grateful for two facts: first, that he defeated Voldemort several years ago, and there were fresher news, and second, that rather few American wizards paid attention to the war in England, anyway. All he had to do was disguise his scar, and he could blend into crowds, talk to strangers who didn't regard him like an exotic animal, and even flirt with women, if he was so inclined. He wasn't.

The American wizarding community was larger than the British one, and it was more connected to the Muggle world. America was no stranger to the Dark Arts, but here, this wasn't generally linked with pureblood supremacism. There have been a number of Muggle-borns practicing the Dark Arts here. Since the name wasn't in any genealogy, he concluded that Hund must have been one of them. But no one Harry met had ever heard the name. Since Hermione didn't contact him, it looked like she didn't find out anything, either.

But in the past few weeks, Harry felt happier than at any time since he dated Ginny. Of course, given what his life consisted of in between—war, jealous rage, Azkaban, and living on the brink of starvation—this was hardly unexpected. Still, Harry was amazed that he could feel happy at all.

He never stayed in one place for too long—though this wasn't because he was hiding. He just wanted to find out about Hund, and pay him and Bellatrix back for all the suffering they inflicted on him. On purpose, he avoided American wizarding schools and the American magical government. They were likely to know about Hund, but they were also likely to know about him. He was afraid he'd be recognized.

Walking through the forest on the outskirts of Salem, Harry wondered where he should go next. Salem had a fascinating history—Hermione would probably love to come here. But despite a sizable magical community, no one Harry talked to could point him to Hund. So Harry planned to go elsewhere... although he wasn't sure where.

"Hey, you! Hold it right there!"

Harry looked up. Three young women appeared, seemingly without a sound, and were pointing their wands at him.

"Uhm..." Harry began.

"The Salem Witches' Institute is a women's only school. Everyone knows that," one of the witches, a tall black woman, said. "You've got some explaining to do for trespassing here."

"Now, look, I didn't know this belonged to your school. I'll leave—"

"English," one of the other women, a chubby blonde, said, noting his accent.

"Doesn't matter," the third woman said. "The Headmistress will—"

Harry had no intention of being taken to any Headmistress and interrogated, perhaps being handed over to the American magical government as a result. He couldn't Apparate—just like Hogwarts, this place was covered by wards.

"Look, I don't want to hurt you—"

"Then you will come with us," the black woman insisted. "_Stu_—"

Harry's own stunner hit her before she finished. The other two jumped out of the way, but Harry managed to hit the blonde. The third woman, whom Harry didn't get a good look at, was able to get a spell off, but Harry blocked it and sent two stunners in rapid succession her way. She dodged one, caught the other on her shield... and failed to notice a third hitting her with full force. She dropped.

"Sorry," Harry whispered to no one in particular.

"Good thing you are," another voice said.

A woman stepped out from behind a tree. She was much older than the three witches he stunned, and, despite her short stature and graying hair, Harry had no illusions that she would be as easy to take down as they were.

"I'd appreciate if you didn't hurt my students," she said. "Mr—?"

"Evans," he said, using the name he'd been going under everywhere—including the bank accounts Hermione set up. "James Evans. I didn't intend to either attack or trespass here, I just didn't know—"

"I believe you, Mr. Evans," the woman said. She pointed her wand at the bodies on the ground. "_Enervate_."

The three women rose, shaking. "Megan, I've expected better from you," the old woman said. "If you were going to fight, you should have cast the spell non-verbally—like he did. You also should have realized this man could do some serious damage to you, and you're quite lucky that he wasn't so inclined. You're planning a career as an Auror, aren't you? Maybe you should rethink that—"

"What could—"

"Contact me! Contact Miss Lyman! Anyone! Or if you really had nothing to back up on, attack first, without warning!" Seeing the shock on the women's faces, she shook her head. "There's a difference between dueling and combat, and you're old enough that you should know what it is. You're dismissed. I'll handle Mr. Evans myself."

As the girls left, the woman looked at Harry. "Follow me, Mr. Evans."

She began walking uphill. "Do you disagree with what I told them?"

"No—" It was then that he realized he had no idea who this woman was.

She must have gotten the same realization, and laughed. "Diana Clarence," she introduced herself. "Headmistress of the Salem Witches' Institute."

"Your students tried to scare me with you," Harry said.

"I guess I'm just not scary enough," she replied. They came to the top of a hill next to large oak tree. "I'll let it slide once, but please don't attack my students in the future, Mr. Potter."  
"What?" Harry said. "My name is—"

"When a lie no longer serves a purpose, it's time to stop telling it," Clarence said sternly. "Now, unlike some, I follow news from abroad, so I know your official story. But of course, you being here doesn't fit in with it."

"Are you going to hand me over to the Aurors?" he asked, still clutching his wand.

"No," Clarence said. "You're here for a reason. I want to know what it is first."

He stared at her for a long time. "I'm looking for revenge."

"On whom? Voldemort is dead, thanks to your effort, I take it?"  
"But not all of his followers are. They set me up to go to Azkaban. Do you know someone named Hund?"

Harry got the answer from the reaction on Clarence's face. "Let's go inside," she said. Touching the oak tree trunk with her wand, she revealed a large opening. Harry followed her, and almost immediately, he stepped out of a wardrobe in a well-lit room.

Another woman, younger than Clarence, sat at a table in front of them. "Thanks, Melissa," Clarence said.

The woman smiled. "No problem." Seeing the look on Harry's face, she chuckled. "Mr. Potter. We don't like people coming to us under fake identities, and we have ways of finding them out." She showed him a piece of parchment. Harry gasped. It was clearly the Salem Witches' Institute version of the Marauder's Map. And right there were three dots labeled Diana Clarence, Melissa Lyman, and Harry Potter.

"The Marauder's—"

"I know about that. I helped them make it," Lyman said. "And then, I created my own version."

"But—"

"Sirius and I were pen pals. I even planned an exchange trip, but it didn't work out."

Harry shook his head. This was too much. "Good thing we have this. It's the second time in three months someone comes to us under a fake name," Clarence interrupted them.

Harry turned to the Headmistress. "Who was the first?"

He got his answer when the door opened in the next moment. His mouth opened and he dropped his wand. For several seconds that felt like years, they stared at each other, not believing what they saw.

"Hi, Harry," Ginny finally managed to say.


	16. Episode II: chapter 5

**Chapter 5.**

"Ginny..." Harry whispered. "Damn..."

"Harry? Is it really you?"

"What's left of me, anyway."

"How?"

"I faked my death to escape."

Ginny's face twisted. "How could you—"

"How could I what?"

"Never mind—"

"No, Ginny. You very clearly told me your life is your own. I accept that, so please do the same. My life is mine... as is my death."

"How do you think I felt, Harry? I was tormented for months! Ron told me at the funeral that your death was my fault!"

Harry was surprised to hear that. He looked at Ginny intently.

"You think he's right?"

Harry didn't answer.

"That's not the Harry I remember."

"And the Ginny I remembered wouldn't have married Malfoy."

"You know how that turned out."

"So why did you stay?"

"I wish I knew."

"That's not the answer you gave me before. You told me you loved him."

"I... I love _you_, Harry."

"Oh, now you love me," Harry said sarcastically. He wished he could believe her.

"You don't believe me, Harry," Ginny said.

"Words are cheap."

"I always loved you, and if I could go back, I would never marry Malfoy."

"Words, Ginny. What do you expect me to do, rush into your arms just like that?" He felt strange saying this, since for many months, he had told himself he'd do just that. He was even disappointed that he didn't want to. But he was no longer the same after his stint in Azkaban.

Ginny looked resigned. "We make quite a pair, don't we? One's in love with the other when the other doesn't reciprocate. Three weeks in my fifth year as an aberration—"

Harry gave a small laugh. It seemed all too true. He also, for the first time, didn't think she'd understand him. He didn't like that, but there was nothing to be done.

He changed the subject. "How'd you end up here, Ginny?"

"I've been pursued by a dark wizard since your 'death', Harry. One dark wizard in particular."

Harry ventured a guess. "Hund."

"That's what he called himself."

"What did he want with you?"  
"He offered me to join him in some mysterious organization. I refused. And Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"You may not believe it, but there is a very specific reason I refused."

"Which was?"

"He insisted on calling me 'Mrs. Malfoy'."

Harry was shocked again. "Ginny—"

"I don't expect anything from you—I never have. I was just informing you of a fact. Goodnight, Harry." She departed before he could say a word.

Harry sank into a chair. "Damn it..."

"Can I get you anything, Mr. Potter?" Melissa Lyman asked.

"Tea, please. And information on Hund."

Diana Clarence sat down. "This will take all night."

"I'm in no hurry."

The Headmistress sighed. "I've already told Ginevra this when she arrived, but I believe having you go to her would be cruel to both of you. But if you want my advice, don't reject her. She has a strong heart..."

"That was never in doubt. I'm not sure I'm strong enough to handle it."

"All right," Clarence began. "Alan Hund was the most talented student I've ever had."


	17. Episode II: chapter 6

**Chapter 6.**

"But I thought Salem—"

"Oh, he didn't attend the school—I used to give private lessons to selected people."

Harry nodded. Clarence continued. "First, I must ask you: was Hund a Death Eater?"

"Likely, but I don't know for sure. I didn't see his mark. But where else would he have met Bellatrix?"  
"He had mentioned to Ginevra that he had a girlfriend. Would he be referring to her?"

"I don't know. We didn't interact with each other for long."

"I understand. You see, Hund joining Voldemort makes no sense to me."

"Why not?"

"Hund usually uses aliases. He did when he came to me—that was before the map. He considers knowing his name a mark of honor—it's his way of telling the person about his his respect."

"An honor I could do without."

"He does respect something in you. And if I had to guess, it would be what he himself respects most. Your independence. Minerva always thought highly—"

"You knew McGonagall?" Harry suddenly asked.

Clarence laughed. "She was one of us. A Salem graduate. She married an Englishman in the late 30s and stayed there since... but we kept in touch. And Minerva had a lot of good things to say about you, Mr. Potter... it was one of the reasons I decided to let you in on the grounds. And she repeatedly mentioned your independence streak."

"So?"

"Above everything else, Hund respects independence. That's why I have trouble believing he'd join Voldemort."

"But he did. Or at least, he was in close enough contact to get friendly with Bellatrix in whatever scheme they hatched."

"All right. But as I said, Hund respects independence. That's why he never did well when it came to formal schooling. But when I taught him, without pressure of grades or schedules, simply because he was willing to learn, he was brilliant."

"Hund is not like Voldemort, Potter," Clarence said firmly. "He does not like direct confrontation much, although assuming that's because he's incompetent is a mistake. But he does prefer manipulation. He also likes to play with people's emotions—both positive and negative. And he likes surprises."

Harry breathed. Clarence, so far, summarized and confirmed his own guesses regarding Hund. "I got that impression during our lessons, and from what I've learned since then, he hasn't changed. But I have also learned that he has absolutely no scruples, is extremely cruel, and, unlike many wizards, doesn't hesitate to use resources of the Muggle world when it suits him.

"Be careful, Potter. If you ever encounter him, he's probably going to try and talk to you."

"I have nothing to say to him."

"He won't just fight you."

That was Lyman, who sat in silence the whole time. Harry even forgot he was there.

"What?" Harry asked.

"I tried to fight him. He always insisted on talking. I didn't want to, but he just kept Disapparating when I attacked him... letting me know he could kill me if he wanted. I gave up eventually."

"Why were you after him?"

Lyman put her head down. "I hoped you wouldn't ask that."

"I'm sorry—"

"It's all right. At the time, Hund was learning with Diana, we dated. Then, one night, he asked me to marry him."

"I don't know whether he really wanted to, or if that was one of his manipulations. He'd almost finished his Animagus training—"

"What was his form?" Harry asked Clarence.

"That's just it, I don't know. He left that night."

"I told him I wasn't ready to get married," Lyman said. "He didn't take it well. He accused me of cheating on him with my best friend Robert. He shouted at me and Disapparated. I thought he'd come back, apologize... but two days later, Robert was found poisoned in his house. Officially, the story is suicide—that's how it was reported everywhere. But I know Hund killed him."

Harry spent several moments thinking about the information. It was a lot more than he got so far, and while it didn't tell him where Hund might be, he felt nothing could do that. and he suddenly got an idea.

"Mrs... Ms..."

"You may call me Professor Clarence. I'm sure that's something you're used to," the Headmistress said.

"Professor... will you teach me? Among other things, I'd like to become an Animagus. I'm probably not ready to face Hund—"

"You underestimate yourself, Potter. But, still, there's no such thing as too much training. All right, Potter. I will... if you promise to consider what I told you about Ginevra. If I see you avoiding her on purpose, I will have to ask you to leave."

This was a strange request. "Why?" Harry asked.

"Because I expect my students to get over their pasts," she said. "I'll have quarters arranged for you. We'll need to do some cleaning. It's been a while since I had a male student."

"Who was the last one?" Harry asked, hoping the answer wasn't what he suspected.

"Quite perceptive, Potter. His name was Alan Hund."

_Damn_.

"I do hope that you turn out better than he did," Clarence said. "Good night, Mr. Potter."


	18. Episode II: chapter 7

**Chapter 7.**

Three days after arriving at Salem, Harry's head was still spinning from everything that happened—especially the information regarding Hund. He was mildly disappointed that it didn't put him on Hund's trail, but he hoped that would change soon—and learning advanced Transfiguration with Diana Clarence was preferable to aimlessly wandering the country.

He didn't talk to Ginny since the night he arrived. They didn't avoid each other, but neither seemed willing to start a conversation. It was almost as if their relationship reverted back to their childhood, when Ginny was simply too shy to talk in front of him.

Harry was eating dinner in the local bar—he preferred it there rather than the school food—when someone sat across from him. He looked up from his plate. "Ginny?" he said.

"Hey," she replied. "How's training?"

"Well enough," Harry said. "Why?"

"Can't I be worried for you?"

"You weren't be—"

"I _always_ worried for you, Harry, and you should never pretend otherwise. If you're allowed to break up with me to keep me safe—"

"You used that time quite productively, if I recall," Harry said.

"Enough with the sarcasm, Harry. It doesn't suit you. I've met Hund. I've fought him. He's dangerous."

"More dangerous than Voldemort?"

"Voldemort didn't put you in jail," Ginny said.

"He didn't try. he always tried to kill me."

"He didn't do that, either."  
"Ginny, do you even know Malfoy was in league with Hund and Bellatrix until they turned on him? I was there. He was shocked when Hund killed him."

"You feel sorry for him?"

"Not really. Do you? He was your husband—"

"In name only."

"What?"  
"I told you already, Harry; I don't know why I did it. Why I married him, why I stayed with him—"

"Love potion?" Harry suggested.

"I wish it was that simple. But would you forgive me if it was?"

Harry shrugged. "It wasn't, so why consider it? It doesn't make sense, anyway. If you were free of influence when you escaped, you wouldn't go back."

"I am trying to figure out what it was. Because I remember my feelings clearly. I loved him. I don't know why. But I never stopped loving you."

"Ginny, if you think—"

"I'm just worried about—"

"I don't need your worry. I don't want it," Harry said angrily. "There are enough people obsessed with me without you adding to the mix."

"No one's obsessed with you anymore," Ginny said coldly. "Least of all me. You got what you always waned. Happy?" She got up and headed towards the door.

"Ginny—" Harry managed before she vanished outside.

"Are you really Harry Potter?" someone else asked.

Harry turned, drawing his wand. In front of him stood one of the women who tried to capture him when he trespassed SWI territory. "Can you talk any louder?" he said sarcastically. "Yes, I am."

"Oh. Megan Shelley," she introduced herself and grinned, white teeth flashing against the dark skin of her face. "Can I sit down?" she asked.

"Sure," Harry said. "You were the one Professor Clarence chastised for failing to act like an Auror, since you want to be one."

"That's what I came to talk to you about. But first... what is it between you and Nurse Weasley?"

"Nothing," Harry said. "We used to date when we were still in school. I broke up with her—"

"Why?"

"What?"

"Why'd you break up?"

"I was afraid Voldemort would use her to get to me."

"I see... you acted all noble."

Harry was stunned. Not only Megan was blunt, but she had used almost the exact words Ginny had the last time they talked as a couple. _It's some stupid, noble reason, isn't it?_

"What happened?" Megan asked, as if not noticing his reaction.

"Why do you want to know?"

"Curious. The way she looks at you—"

"That doesn't matter—"

"If you say so."

"She married my worst enemy at school."

"Oh," Megan said. "I'm sorry."

Harry didn't reply. "What did you want to ask me?"

"Well, Mr. Potter, I really do want to be an Auror."

"So? If you think I can help you get in, you better think again, since I got dropped from the program myself."

"No... I want you to teach me. I want to improve my fighting skills."

Harry didn't expect that. "Why me? Why not ask—"

"Miss Lyman? Ms. Clarence? They're Transfiguration teachers, it's not their specialty. And I don't really feel like signing up for an IS with anyone else around."

"IS? Harry asked, confused.

"Independent Study. Besides, you've already taught me a very important lesson."

"What's that?"

"That my fighting skills need improvement. You demonstrated that very clearly three days ago."

Harry laughed. "That wasn't my intention."

"I know. Will you help me?"

"Where do we practice. We need a rather large space—"

"In the forest. I know plenty of nice places."

Harry finished his food. "Well, come on."

"_Now?_"

"Harry looked at her. "Do you want to learn, or do you want to talk? The most important thing when it comes to combat is being able to deal with surprises. Consider this one."

Megan smiled and followed him. "I think I'm going to like learning from you, Mr. Potter."

"Just one thing. It doesn't matter how good you are; If you aren't focused on succeeding in your training, if you try to go through it half-heartedly, they'll notice it and they'll drop you... like they did with me."

He looked up at her, expecting her to ask what distracted him during training. He wouldn't answer her, and he doubted she'd insist once he said it was personal... but instead, the woman just nodded and proceeded to walk into the forest, holding her wand at the ready.

_And here I was talking about surprises,_ he thought. _It seems Megan surprised me._


	19. Episode II: chapter 8

**Chapter 8.**

_June 2002, Salem, Massachusetts._

Harry looked in the mirror. "Ugh. You didn't tell me this would make me look like Malfoy."

A head of long, smooth blonde hair with a pointed face and bright blue eyes stared back at him. He waved his wand. The hair became as messy as it usually was, but remained blonde. Harry tried the spell again, and immediately got his vision obscured by enormous eyebrows. At least now they were black, like the rest of the hair. Harry tried it again, focusing on his real appearance. The eyebrows shrank, a scar appeared on his forehead, and he got a few inches shorter. He was almost ready to step away, but then he noticed brown eyes behind the glasses. He focused on that, but he remembered how people always told him that he had his mother's eyes. The memory came at precisely the wrong moment. He saw Professor Clarance restrain the urge to laugh—which he understood perfectly once he looked back into the mirror. The eyes were green, but he also had a mane of curly auburn hair to go along with them.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter," Professor Clarence said, and, taking out her wand, restored him to his natural appearance.

"Maybe the reverses of these appearance-altering charms should be taught before the charms themselves," he suggested. "If I tried to use one of these appearances as a disguise, it'd get noticed faster than without it, scar, and all." He realized that part of the reason he was having difficulties was that the magic itself reminded him of Tonks... bright, cheerful Nymphadora Tonks, who didn't live to see the end of the war. Harry sighed. Dwelling on the past would do nothing, and neither would telling Professor Clarence about it.

The Salem Headmistress got a bottle of a bluish liquid out of the cabinet and handed it to him. "This is a restoration potion. You need to practice, and this'll let you do that without worrying that you'll have to go out looking like you've been sewn together from different people. Don't worry, you're doing very well for someone who never studied Transfiguration in depth. Even Hund—"

"Please, Professor. I find such comparisons uncomfortable."

Clarence nodded. "Is Megan making progress?"  
Harry stared at her. "You know?"  
"Of course. It's the only reason she'd stay around her after graduation—she really wants to be an Auror."

"I'm trying to teach her what they taught me while I was in Auror training—is there anything that's done differently in America that I should know?"

"Not really. Working in big cities, disguising as Muggles is the only thing I can think of that would be emphasized."

"Well, Megan should have no problem with that—she's a Muggle-born. I don't see a way to teach her fighting against multiple enemies, thought. That's very important."

"Well, she should actually learn something while _in_ training... As far as I know, they don't test that during the admissions process. They do test how you react under pressure."

"Megan is good at that. Much better than I was."

"Uh-huh," Clarence said. "Did you tell her why they dropped you?"

"No. Why?"

"So what are you going to do if she confronts you with what she's read in the papers?"

Harry paused. Megan showed no inclination to dig into his history, but of course, it was entirely possible that someone—even Ginny—would tell her something to spur her curiosity. If she demanded an explanation...

"The truth," Harry said. "It's the only thing that makes sense, anyway."

Clarence laughed. "You do have a unique way of putting things, Mr. Potter. I wonder if that has something to do with Ginevra's behavior lately."

"Huh?" Harry asked. "What's wrong with Ginny?"  
"Nothing 'wrong', but she has been rather quiet for over a month."

"I didn't know that. We haven't talked all that time."

"Mr. Potter, I have—"

"I'm not avoiding her, Professor. She may be avoiding me—I wouldn't know. If she is, what can I do about it? I have no control over what she does, I know that very well."

"Well, I might need to talk to Ginevra—"

"Professor , what are you trying to do here? Set us up together?" He laughed at the idea.

Clarence laughed with him. "No, but Ginevra is a powerful witch... and you are a very powerful wizard. And right now, the situation between you two is a ticking time bomb. If it goes off, I fear for the safety of my school and my students."

Harry found the idea ridiculous. "I'd never fight Ginny."

"There are other ways things can get out of hand," Clarence replied. "Believe me, Mr. Potter, I know what I'm talking about."

Harry had no argument. "I'll think about it, Professor. But I have to go." He looked at his watch. "Megan's probably waiting already. Goodnight, Professor." He left the classroom.

Megan was indeed waiting for him at the bar, reading a newspaper. "You're late. It's the first time. What's wrong?"  
"Just a little prolonged lesson with Professor Clarence," he said.

"About what?"

"Human transfiguration. Changing my appearance for disguise. I don't like putting makeup on my scar, but until I learn this..." He shrugged.

"That's a useful skill for an Auror to have..." Megan said.

"Yeah, but you'd be better off asking Professor Clarence or Professor Lyman directly. As I said, I haven't yet figured it out myself."

The waiter brought Harry his order, and he picked up the knife and fork. Megan buried herself in the newspaper. Harry was engrossed in his own thoughts, mostly about what Professor Clarence said about Ginny. She denied trying to set them up, but the argument she gave him felt ridiculous. What danger could he and Ginny pose to SWI?

Harry saw something out of the corner of his eye and blinked. On the back of Megan's newspaper was a moving photograph of an all-too-familiar sight—the Dark Mark hovering over the ruins of a house.

"Let me see that," he said, taking the newspaper from Megan. She protested, but Harry quickly showed her the picture. "The Dark Mark hasn't been seen since the end of the war."

The story was in the "News from Abroad" section of the paper. "According to the British Ministry of Magic, the murder of Augusta Longbottom—"

Harry choked as he read the story. He quickly scanned the rest. There was no mention of Neville or Luna being hurt, but that did little to ease his mind. "I'm going there," he said.

Megan looked at him. "Can I come?"

"No," he answered.

"Why not? It can be valuable field experience—"

"It's too dangerous. There's at least one Death Eater on the loose—"

"If he's on the loose, what's to stop him from showing up here?"

"First, if it's who I think it is, it's a she," Harry said. "Second, there's no reason for them to show up here. There is in England."

"What would that be? You? Well, you're here now. If they have a spy in this bar, they'll know. What are you going to do? Live as a hermit in the desert and avoid contact with everyone?"

"I've considered that," Harry said.

"You obviously decided against it. So, what's different if I come now or not? I could help you."

"NO. It's dan—"

"Why are you allowed to put yourself into danger and not me?"

"Because—"

"Because what?"

"It's my job."

"How? You're not an Auror, and—"

"And neither are you!"  
"Yet. It's my future job. What makes it yours?"

"I'm Harry Potter, that's what."

"You know," Megan said as she leaned back in her chair, "there are reasons for doing things, and then there are excuses. You've just begun offering excuses."

"Megan—"

"Forget it! You keep telling me how important teamwork is, but why should I believe you? You obviously don't believe it yourself."

"I believe it," Harry said.

"You told me two people working together are always stronger than one—"

"You don't remember the whole thing, do you? I said that is true provided both know what they're doing."

"So I don't know what I'm doing, is that it?" Megan yelled at him. "All those complements were just flattery and protection of my feelings—"

"No, I meant them," Harry said quickly.

"Then why—"

"You aren't ready—"

"Who's to judge that? You? Were you ready to face Voldemort?"  
Harry blurted out something incomprehensible.

"What?" Megan demanded.

"No," Harry said. "No, I wasn't."

"So what's the difference—"

"Is there any way to stop you from coming?"  
"If you Disapparate right now, I won't be able to follow," she said.

"That would be rude," Harry replied.

Megan laughed. "So it's your manners that will let me come along?"

"I didn't say that. If you want me to take you, at least admit this has nothing to do with field experience. You're just curious."

Megan stared back in frustration. "That, and something else. I care about you. I don't want to sit here wondering if you're all right."

"I just—"

"Are you taking me or not, Potter?"

Harry resigned himself. "Yes," he said. "Get some Muggle clothes."

"What for? Won't we—"

"It'll take forever to get a transcontinental Portkey, and it'll look suspicious so soon after what happened. No, we're going to use Muggle transportation."

"So we Apparate to an airport and take a flight to London?"

Harry nodded.

"Where?" Megan asked. "Boston?" That was the closest major airport to them. But Harry shook his head. "New York," he said. When Megan looked at him cryptically, he smiled, and explained. "We're taking the Concorde."


	20. Episode II: chapter 9

**Chapter 9.**

_Wessex, England._

Despite not getting much sleep, both Harry and Megan walked through the country side at a brisk pace. Harry hoped the Ministry investigators already left—not that he counted on them to do anything productive. But he was almost certain that Bellatrix and Hund were involved in this. Voldemort was gone, even if Bellatrix believed otherwise, but that didn't mean the world was safe.

As they approached what was left of the house, Harry felt the precise moment they passed through the wards that kept Muggle from seeing its magical nature. Harry didn't think Mrs. Longbottom was the sort to booby-trap her residence—that was more like the Malfoys and the Blacks—but he still drew his wand.

Nothing happened. Harry walked around the ruins. The method of destruction was obvious: someone used magic to break several key support points, and walls, ceiling, and roof collapsed on each other. He shuddered, wondering if Mrs. Longbottom wad dead already when it happened or had actually been buried underneath.

"Hey, what're you doing here?" a voice demanded.

Harry turned to find himself staring down an aimed wand. Neville almost dropped it. "Who are you?" he said.

Harry had to admit to himself that he was afraid. He knew what a loss of someone you loved could do. "Neville, don't you recognize me? I'm Harry—"

"Harry Potter is dead," Neville said. "He died in Azkaban." He then looked at Megan. "And Harry wouldn't be with any girl except—"

"First of all, Neville, Megan isn't my girlfriend. As for dying, that's ADPL." He hoped that term would make Neville believe him.

It didn't. "Lots of people know that one," Neville said. "Harry is dead."

"Do I look dead?" Harry asked. "You can send an owl to Ron and Hermione, I'll wait."

"If you're alive, I should try to bring you in. You did escape from Azkaban, and you did kill—"

"That's also ADPL," Harry said.

Megan suddenly drew her wand. "What the hell haven't you been telling me, Potter? You killed? You were in prison? You escaped? You're a criminal on the run? I trusted—no wonder you didn't want to be brought in—did you put Ms. Clarence under Imperius—and what the hell's an ADPL?" She stopped, out of breath, but then opened her mouth again. Harry shook his head and laughed.

"What's so funny?" Megan demanded. "I've been—"

"You could have found out this at any time by simply going to newspaper archives. The story must have been covered in America, and even if it wasn't, there's got to be a magical library with past issues of the _Prophet_. Miss Lyman and I actually had a bet going as to when you'd find out. I'll have to pay up now."

"You... you took that risk? What if I went straight to the MLEA?"

"The American Magical Law Enforcement Agency?" Harry asked. "Well, Professor Clarence has friends there. We'd know, and I'd have to go into hiding again. An inconvenience, and a loss for you, but not life-threatening. I certainly do not have Professor Clarence under the Imperius curse—not to mention that for the idea to work, I'd have to do the same with Professor Lyman and Ginny at the very least. And in case you haven't noticed, all three are powerful witches, and they wouldn't be easy to control." He waited for Megan to absorb this, and continued. "ADPL is an acronym we used during the war. It stands for 'Another _Daily Prophet _Lie'—we've had too many of those."

"Why should I believe you?" Neville asked. He thought for a moment. "Show me your Patronus."  
Harry wasn't sure if he'd be able to produce one after all he's been through. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the memory... Entering the Common Room... the Quidditch team shouting, 'We won!'... Ginny running towards him... hug... kiss...

"_Expecto Patronum!_"

Harry opened his eyes. A bright white stag was prancing above them in the sky.

He looked at Neville, who appeared shocked. Only now did Harry notice how exhausted his old friend was. He warily stepped forward and was crushed in an embrace. "You're really alive... how?"

"I'm sorry, Neville," Harry said. "Your grandmother..."

"Do you know who it was?" he said.

"An idea, but no proof," Harry said. "And I don't think we should discuss this here. Plus, Luna will want to know too. Is she all right?"  
"_She_ is. But her dad's injured, so she watches him at St. Mungo's. Their house was destroyed the same way—but there was no Dark Mark, so it didn't get much publicity."

"So where are you going to live?"

"We'll rent a place for the summer, and then we'll live at Hogwarts, like we usually do."

"Why don't you room at Grimmauld Place?" Harry suggested. "I could use company, and the house should be watched."

"Grimmauld—" Megan asked.

"Grimmauld Place. My godfather left it tome. I lived there for a few months after the war."

"Err... all right," Neville said.

"Hold on." Harry took Megan's arm and Apparated with her.

Neville popped out a moment later. "Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, London," Harry said, and a large house seemingly popped out of the ground.

Harry tapped the door with his wand. It creaked open. "_Lumos_," he said. "Be careful."

Their feet raised clouds of thickly piled dust. The house wasn't the cleanest place in the world when Harry lived here, and apparently no one has been inside since then. They stepped into the living room, and Harry couldn't believe what he saw by the light of the wands.

The fateful bottle of cognac was still on the table.


	21. Episode II: chapter 10

**Chapter 10.**

Neville looked around. "Do you have Floo Powder?"  
"Should be some left in the bag next to the fireplace," Harry said. "I don't believe this is still here..."

"What?" Megan asked.

"I'll tell you later," he said, stowing the drink away. He waved his wand, and torches lit up the house. "That's better... I think."

Neville lit a fire in the fireplace. "I'll go see Luna," he said. He tossed in a handful of Floo Powder, yelled "St. Mungo's!" and disappeared.

"You lived here?" Megan asked, staring around.

"Yeah." He nodded. "Fit in with my mood perfectly."

"What was this place before?"

"Headquarters of anti-Voldemort resistance," he said.

"Doesn't look like it. It seems more to the taste of Voldemort himself."

"Maybe. It's the Black family mansion, and they did have a reputation... I told you about Bellatrix Lestrange? Well, she was one of them. Care—"

The warning came too late. Megan disturbed the curtain at the entrance, and screams filled the room. "Dirty half-blood, how did you survive?" She then noticed Megan. "More Mudbloods, the shame! And an African one at that—" Harry shut the curtains, silencing the portrait. "Are you okay?" he asked Megan.

"Yeah."

"That was my godfather's mother. I'm surprised he was what he was... though I suppose he had other role models. Be careful around the house. It has other unfriendly surprises—less than it used to, but..."

"Why didn't you remove it?"

"We tried," Harry said. "Short of removing the entire wall, it couldn't be done. Even Hermione couldn't find a way to reverse the sticking charm. And we were afraid the entire house would fall down if we risked breaking walls."

"Who's Hermione?" Megan asked.

"My best friend—well, one of my two best friends. Her husband Ron's the other. They live in Las Vegas. If you'd like, we can visit them."

Megan was prevented from answering by the whoosh of the fireplace. Neville appeared out of the fire. He quickly extended his hand and helped Luna out. Luna was heavily pregnant. _Well, why should I be surprised?_ Harry thought.

"Hello, Luna," he said. "Congratulations."  
"Harry!" Luna shouted. "You escaped!"

"Yes," he said. "But we'll talk about this later. First, some introductions. "Megan, this Luna Lovegood—"

"Longbottom," Luna said, holding Neville's hand. "Or as the press calls me, 'the triple L'."

Harry laughed. "Better than 'The Chosen One'. Luna, this is Megan Shelley."

"Hello," Luna said. "You're an American."

"Uhm... yes, I am?" Megan said, looking at Harry for guidance.

"Did you know any Firewizards?"

"What?"  
"Firewizards. America's famous for them. They can turn into fire at will. It's how American's execute criminals—hugs from a Firewizard. They don't come here because the air is so moist, and they'd get extinguished."

"Where did you get this—" Megan started to argue. She also glared at Harry, apparently struggling between her manners and saying what was going on in her head.

"I'll read that issue when it comes out, Luna," Harry said. "I promise." Luna smiled.

"Harry," Neville said, "I think you better explain what happened... and why'd you come now?" Megan nodded.

"All right," he said. "The attacks on your families are probably related... otherwise, we just have an eerie coincidence, which I don't believe."

"I don't either," Neville said. "Maybe it's a good idea for us to live here for awhile, where they wouldn't expect."

"Feel free to stay as long as you like," Harry said. "But judging by the Dark Mark, at least one of the perpetrators was a Death Eater. And the most prominent Death Eater who wasn't killed or captured during the war—"

"Bellatrix Lestrange," Neville said. "They haven't heard from her since the end of the war. They don't even know if she's alive—"

"Oh, she's alive. Or at least, she was at the time of my arrest."

"How do you know?"

"I saw her. Apparently, Malfoy has remained in contact with his dear aunt all that time."

"You spied on Malfoy?" Luna asked.

"Not exactly."

Neville looked thoughtful. "Did Ginny know?"

"I don't think so," Harry said. "Long story short, I got captured at Malfoy Manor, at the hands of Malfoy, Bellatrix, and an American wizard named Alan Hund."

Harry took a breath. "Apparently, sending me to Azkaban was part of some plan they came up with. So, Hund killed Malfoy, and placed a Memory Charm on me. And because everyone knew about me and Ginny, as well as that I hated Malfoy, the case was clear. 'Jealous ex-boyfriend kills woman's new husband.' That I threatened to do just that at their wedding didn't help matters."

Harry finished, and looked at his friends. "You were framed?" Megan asked.

"That's right," he said. "And because of the Memory Charm, I couldn't do anything at my trial. You know, at one point, _I_ believed I did it."

"So what happened then?"

"I escaped by managing to fake death."

"We figured that out," Neville said. "How?"

Harry was afraid of this. "I'm sorry," he said. "It's a very difficult thing for me to remember, and I don't think I'm ready to tell anyone about it. Maybe I never will be. Suffice it to say... I wouldn't have done it if I wasn't desperate, and, yes, it did involve Dark Magic."

Even that admission took a lot out of him. He hoped he wouldn't have to draw his wand and defend himself.

"Did—"

"Did I _really _kill anyone?" Harry laughed. "No. Or torture, or cause any physical injuries. But it's bad enough."

Neville sighed. "So if you're caught—"

"Dementor's Kiss. No second trial, no arguments. If you're going to turn to me in—"

"We won't," Neville said, and Luna nodded. Megan looked back and fourth, and finally gave a reluctant nod.

"I think the attacks on your families were part of Bellatrix and Hund's plan."

"How?"

"I can't say if I don't know what the plan is. But I'll try to find out. It isn't good, that's for sure."

"I'll help you, Harry. Do you want me to come with you—"

"No," Harry said. "You've got a family... take care of it."

"We'd like to think you are part of our family," Luna said.

Harry sighed. "Well, I didn't let Ron and Hermione ruin the lives they built over me, and I won't let you do it either. If I find out something, I'll tell you. You do the same. Send an owl to Diana Clarence at SWI."

Neville nodded. "You're going back so soon?"

"I'll stay a few days... get the wards on the house to recognize you... but there's little to do here. The attackers are gone, and there's no evidence about them, is there? We may know more than the Ministry—but that depends on our speculation about Bellatrix and Hund being true. Or maybe we're just deluding ourselves. Either way, its' not like I've got a Ministry contact who'll tell me all I need to know."

"I do—but you're right, they have nothing. So you wasted—"

"I didn't waste anything," Harry said. "It was good to see you. Both of you."

Luna yawned. "Tired, dear?" Neville asked. "Can you—"

"As far as I'm concerned, this place is yours as much as mine. A bit creepy, but if you use the rooms that were previously inhabited, you'll be all right. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Harry," Neville and Luna said simultaneously. "Goodnight, Megan."


	22. Episode II: chapter 11

**Chapter 11.**

Megan stood quietly for a few moments, waiting for the Longbottoms to disappear upstairs. Then she turned. "Harry," she asked, "I don't want to insult your friends, but... is she crazy?"  
Harry looked at her. "Luna Lovegood—" He laughed, and, at Megan's prompt look, said, "I still have trouble thinking of her as a Longbottom—is... _unique._ She's very perceptive, and she states facts bluntly—even when—perhaps especially when—stating these facts do not put her in the best light. A lot of times, you have the urge to pity her—and that's a mistake. She doesn't want anyone's pity, and she won't adjust to anyone else's standards."

"But—"

"You asked if she was crazy. Luna believes in... unconventional things. As I said, she won't accept anyone's standards of truth but her own."

"We all have quirks, Megan. Whether it's strange taste in food, in sports, or belief in odd creatures—"

"_Odd? Firewizards?_ Harry—"

"The best thing you can do is show Luna that whatever you think of her ideas, you appreciate her as a person. The worst thing you can do is jump into an argument with her over it. Luna is a brave woman, and, once you accept her, a very loyal friend. I'm sure she is a loving wife and will be a wonderful mother. But all of the these things don't change her, and if they did, she wouldn't be Luna."

"So you don't believe her—"

"Put it this way... in my fifth year, the larger public put the idea that Voldemort had returned on par with theories about Heliopaths, Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, and Firewizards. Luna was one of the comparatively few who believed it, and, of course, people dismissed it. but it helped me immensely. Snorkacks don't exist, and Voldemort did, but I'd rather have it been the other way around."

Megan laughed. "I'm sorry," she said.

"It's okay. I was far worse to her at our first meeting. There's nothing wrong with Luna except that most people think there's something wrong with her."

"So what do we do now? We go back, since we found nothing? And then what?"

"I'm going to continue my studies with Professor Clarence," he said. "If you'd like, I'll continue teaching you."

"Of course I'd like that!" Megan said excitedly. She rushed to hug him.

The hug lasted longer than it should have... and then it didn't stop.

"Megan," Harry said.

"Shh... I really like you, and I wanted to come along to keep you safe—"

"Keep _me_ safe? Megan, I—"

"I never thought you were the arrogant type, Potter," Megan said, relaxing in his arms. "You are a skilled wizard, but you can't do everything yourself. Since you are rejecting Neville, Luna—apparently all your friends, that leaves me."

"Megan, we can't date. You—"

"Why not?"

"We have a teacher-student relationship."

"Of our own choice. It's different from being in school."

"Megan..."

"Why not, Harry? Is it because of Ginevra—"

"Leave Ginny out of this! If I wanted to date her right now, I could!" Harry couldn't believe that he actually said that to Megan. But he did, and moreover, he believed it.

"All right. But don't tell me you don't think me attractive, and that you don't like me. That won't fly—" she grinned— "seeing as you're still hugging me."

Harry let go. "There."

That didn't turn Megan away. "You should know that I don't like it when excuses are offered instead of reasons. You've crossed that line awhile ago."

"'I don't want to' is not a good reason?" Harry asked.

"It is," Megan admitted, "provided that it's true. Look, I'm not expecting a marriage proposal, I'm not asking for commitment. We can make it a one-time thing and see where that leads us. If you or I don't like it, we'll quit at that and go back to the 'teacher-student relationship."

"That may not be easy."

"Nothing worthwhile is easy. What do you say?"  
Harry was surprised once more. Megan was absolutely right, and she had forced his thoughts on Ginny out of him, so he couldn't hide behind that. Nor did he want to lie to her.

He smiled. "Has anyone ever told you you run off your mouth too much?"

"A lot. Why?"  
"Because you do. But I like you for it. It's a date, Megan."

She chuckled. "Thanks," she said, and kissed him. "Goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight, Megan," he said as she headed upstairs. He sat down. His life had taken another surprising turn. _Will those ever stop? Probably not, _he concluded.


	23. Episode II: chapter 12

**Chapter 12.**

_June 2002, Area 51, Nevada._

_Who came up with these long corridors?_ Hermione thought as she walked down one of them. Area 51 had many... if she designed the place, she'd have come up with a better layout. The corridors were a waste of space, people's time, and taxpayers' money. They also instilled a sense of dread when someone got called to a superior and had to take a long walk down one... like heading towards an execution. Hermione was in just such a situation now.  
She had been going through her routine work when she received an order to report to the top boss himself, the director of Area 51. She hoped they weren't throwing her out, but the order appeared quite ominous. She also couldn't share that worry—for some reason, Lydia didn't show up today.

"Hermione Granger-Weasley, reporting to see the Director," she announced as she approached the entrance to the facility's headquarters. A sentry stood at the door with a rifle. Hermione put her eye to a scanner and waited.

The scanner beeped. "Oh, you're one of them," the sentry said. "You'll have to leave your wand here."

Hermione sighed. _Really,_ she thought. _What do they I'm going to do, go in there and kill the Director?_ She knew that this central complex of Area 51 was protected by anti-Apparition wards... so she wouldn't be able to escape if she did that. And if one did aim to kill the man, it'd be much easer to do that outside the facility, when he was with his family. Like the whole Area 51, the Director's best protection was very few people knowing who he truly was.

But arguing was pointless, so Hermione left her wand on a nearby table, and, nodding to the sentry, headed in.

She was about to report to secretary when she was preempted. "Ms. Granger-Weasley, go right in."

Hermione smiled at her, and headed towards the door with a simple golden plaque on it. The plaque read: Lt. General Paul Chandler, USAF.

General Chandler was a very tall man whose hair color Hermione didn't know, since he shaved his head bald. She had met him once, right after she started working here. They talked for less than five minutes then. Now... Hermione doubted she would be summoned all the way here just to be fired, but she was still nervous.

The general looked up from his desk. Upon it were strewn several folders, which he was studying intensely. One of them, Hermione noticed, was her own personal file.

"Sit down, Ms. Granger-Weasley," he invited her. She did.

"How's the Digital Pensieve going?"

Hermione had to be honest. "Not so well. We still—sir, this isn't—"

"Relax. The Digital Pensieve is no longer your concern," he said. "Damn them. Damn—"

"Sir?" Hermione asked. Whoever _they_ were, they must have angered General Chandler significantly.

"We're in trouble," he said. "This facility's in trouble. Fifteen years ago, we swept a rather unpleasant incident under the rug. Well, the rug has been pulled out, and we're going to pay for it."

"Sir, I don't—"

"In your time fighting against this dark wizard, back in Britain—"

"Voldemort," Hermione supplied.

"Yes. Did you ever encounter anyone named Hund?"

"Hund?" Hermione asked. _Hund! Harry was sent to prison by Hund. It can't be a coincidence_. But there was no proof, and Hermione knew nothing except what Harry told her. "No, sir," she said. "Why?"  
"He's a dark wizard—"

"That doesn't mean he was a Death Eater. There was dark magic before Voldemort. There still is now that Voldemort's gone. There will be as long as—"

"I was hoping you'd know something, since the group you'll be working with will focus on Hund."

"I still don't understand—"

"Hund's trouble," General Chandler said. "Hund's trouble for both our worlds. And now, he somehow has access to top secret U.S. government information that he shouldn't have. We're blamed for the leak because, fifteen years ago, Hund worked here at Fifty-One."

_That's where I saw the name,_ Hermione remembered. Lydia was doing something with the past records of the facility, and a section of the employee register must have come up.

"He worked here?"

"Correct. And the NSA's theory is that he's left back doors in our computers, and is now using them. For all I know, it may be true. Hund didn't just leave us. He stole classified data and escaped."

Hermione gasped. "And they didn't catch him all these years?"

"U.S., British, and Canadian governments put out arrest warrants. So did the corresponding magical governments. It did no good. Hund's disappeared, and has been aiding 'freedom fighters' all over the world—sometimes utilizing classified data."

"But why now—?"

"Hund's been lying low the past five years or so." _That's what you think._ "But several recent terrorists acts were traced to him—"

"9/11?!" Hermione asked. The act itself was horrible. That it might have been perpetuated by a wizard on an unsuspecting Muggle population...

"We doubt it, but it can't be ruled out. Somehow, Hund _is_ getting our _recent_ classified data. The NSA's up in arms over it, so we have to toe their line. We're going after Hund. They asked for you. Who, I don't know."

"When?"

"Now. Office 2779. Good luck, Ms. Granger-Weasley. Catch the bastard."

"Yes, sir," Hermione replied. _Well, this is something. And I'll find a way to let Harry know... somehow._ She frowned. Harry hadn't contacted her since he had left. He also hasn't used much money... although there was a withdrawal of several thousand dollars just a few days ago. She wondered what Harry bought.

When Hermione stepped into office 2779, she was surprised to find herself staring at a large model of an SR-71 Blackbird spy plane hanging from the ceiling. She was even more surprised to find that of all the people around the table, she knew two of them. Right across from her sat Lydia Jones, working on her laptop, and at one end of the table, there was Joseph Stone, an elderly man who was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, and who arranged for Hermione to get into Area 51. She moved to greet him.

"Ms. Granger-Weasley?" a woman from the other end of the table called. She was in her early thirties, wiry, blonde, and wearing a U.S. Army uniform with the crossed flags and a torch insignia of the Signal Corps. Hermione looked to see the rank—"

"You're late," the woman said.

"Sorry. General Chandler held me up."

"General Chandler held a lot of things up. Never mind. I'm Lieutenant Colonel Catherine Hemmings. I'm in command of this unit."

Hermione nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"Here." She turned her laptop towards Hermione.

"What's this?"

"Your terms of work. You will be tried for treason if—"

"I'm British."

"Irrelevant. The U.S. has an extradition treaty with Britain."

Hermione started to get the feeling that Lieutenant Colonel Hemmings didn't like her. "What if I don't sign?"

Hemmings pointed to the door. "You get a Memory Charm, and go back to routine work on... digital Pensieves..." Hemmings said, pronouncing the last two words with delight.

Hermione shook her head, and signed the electronic pad. She then placed her thumbprint and iris scan on record.

"Joe recommended you," Hemmings told Hermione, "and I trust his judgment. But what I'd like to know is... are you indecisive?"

"What?" Hermione asked. Stone, Lydia, and the other four people in the room all looked up at her.

"Cathy—" Stone said.

"Don't 'Cathy' me here." Hemmings turned to him. "I'm your superior officer—"

"Yes, ma'am," Stone obliged. "However—"

"Ms. Hermione Granger-Weasley," Hemmings said. "God, that's stupid. You either change your name upon marriage, or you don't."

Now Hermione _really_ didn't like Hemmings. "And that means I'm indecisive?" she asked. "Well..."

Hermione spun around and pointed her wand at Hemmings. She aimed to do a stunning spell. _Indecisive?_ she thought angrily. _Just_—

Suddenly, a hand of one of the men who had been sitting silently this whole time intercepted her wrist and knocked it up. The spell, instead of hitting Hemmings, went into the ceiling. Pain went through Hermione's arm, and she dropped her wand. Before she could react, her legs were swiped out from under her and she collapsed on the floor. She blinked. The man was pointing a gun at her.

Hermione didn't have time to say anything when Joseph Stone stepped in. "Back off, Sergeant," he said. "Hermione's quite safe."

"She—"

"_Put the gun away_. You can get up, Hermione. Now, Colonel Hemmings—"

"Colonel Hemmings,"—Hermione glared at the officer— "if you think I can't do the job, you want me to do, just say so. I'm not desperate. I can have another job at Fifty-One, I can get another job outside, and I have enough to retire _now_ if I wanted to." _Not that I'd ever use Harry's money like that, but Hemmings doesn't know that._

"Very well," Hemmings said after a long pause. "But just because you're a witch doesn't give you the right to wave your wand around as you please. You're supposed to be smart, and it's your brain that you're paid to use here. Since you already know Jones and Stone, let me introduce you to the rest of the team. The one who took you down was Sergeant Larry Earhart, this"—she pointed to a very short man next to her— "is Sergeant Michael Anderson, and that's Staff Sergeant Sean Bloomberg." She nodded at a man at the other side of the table. Hermione shook all their hands and smiled at Larry Earhart. She hoped she'd have the time to ask him how he did that later—and maybe to teach her. But Hemmings still hasn't introduced the remaining man, who was sitting next to Lydia engrossed in a thick manual of some sort. "My second in command," Hemmings said simply. "Captain John Sherman."

Sherman looked up, shook Hermione's hand, and went back to his reading.

"They're from the Delta Force," Hemmings supplied.

Hermione took a seat next to stone. "So, you don't exist?" she asked Earhart.

The reply came from Bloomberg. "Neither does Fifty-One," he said.

"And neither do we," Hemmings interrupted. "We've been formed so we can eliminate the threat Hund poses. Stone here is a representative of the MLEA."

"And we trust him?" Lydia asked. "This is supposed to be secret."

"I'm not your garden-variety Auror," Stone said.

"Enough!" Hemmings cut him off. "The most important thing is to close the leak of secret data that Hund somehow has access to. Any terrorist act where Hund's involved, we're going to be the first on the scene. We'll piece together the information needed to locate Hund's source."

"Ma'am, may I ask something?" Hermione interrupted.

Hemmings paused. "What is it?"

"I don't think we'll get anywhere by just reacting. And also, how do we know if Hund's involved in a particular terrorist act?"

Hemmings looked at her with something resembling respect. "To answer the second question, we don't. He has few patterns in his activity—that's why he evaded us all these years. One thing we can be reasonably certain is that we can discount any incident in which magic is not used, and where there are no American victims—usually U.S. military and government personnel. There, he's been consistent. Why, we don't know." _Except for the time he killed Malfoy,_ Hermione thought.

"With what little knowledge we have, we have no choice but to react. That's why locating the leak is so important. Ideally, we want to do that without alerting Hund to it and start feeding him false information. Maybe then he'll act on and expose himself."

"Hund may not be alone when we find him—he does work with terrorists, after all. But if it comes down to magical combat with him, it'll be up to you and Stone to take him down. Right now, our orders are to arrest him. But if it's a choice between killing him and letting him get away, we use deadly force and deal with niceties later."

Looking over the group, Hemmings sighed. "Very well. I hope to get all the relevant documents from General Chandler. We'll start work tomorrow. Get here on time," she threw at Hermione before departing the office.

The rest of the group started leaving, too. When only Hermione and Stone were left, Hermione turned to the man. "Can I ask you something?"  
"Sure," he said, amused. "Can't promise I'll answer, of course—it may be classified."

She laughed. "I doubt this is—though you never know. But... is she crazy?"

"Cathy? Oh, don't look so surprised, Hermione. I knew her for a long time. And I can answer you that, no, unfortunately, Catherine Hemmings is not crazy."

"Unfortunately? What—"

"Because if she was, that would provide a sensible and clear explanation for why she does the things she does. As it is, I just don't understand what goes through her head at all. But believe me, Hermione, I'm more certain of Lieutenant Colonel Hemmings' sanity than I am of my own." With that, he headed for the door. "I'll see you tomorrow, Hermione."

She sat down to gather her thoughts. While this new assignment looked to be interesting, she wished it wasn't even more covered in secrecy than the usual work at Fifty-One. She wished she could talk to Ron about it. She wished she could give Harry the information he needed. She wished she wouldn't have to look at aftermath of terrorist acts again.

Wishing was pointless. But she could forget about all of it for the next fifteen hours, at least, and go home to those who loved her. She felt she'd need that before getting involved with the hunt for Hund. She certainly wouldn't get that from Colonel Hemmings.


	24. Episode II: chapter 13

**Chapter 13.**

_August 2002, Cincinnati, Ohio_.

"I'd like to say I'm pleased to meet you, Mr. Wilson, but given the circumstances..." Hermione began.

"I understand. How he managed—" Cade Wilson, principal of the Cincinnati Magical Academy, said exhaustingly.

"We're here to find this out," she assured him. "Hermione Bender, MLEA." She had to use the fake name, since someone like Principal Wilson could have recognized the names Granger or Weasley. "This is Joseph Stone, Lydia Jones, and Catherine Hemmings." Hermione hoped their search here would yield some information. Pulling a deception to get in would be a minor miracle.

Late last night, the school suffered an attack that left five students and a teacher dead. Stone, through his contacts, got his information very quickly. The description of the attackers' leader provided by several witnesses, including Principal Wilson, who dueled him and got most of his hair burned off for it, matched Hund's. With that, Hermione and the other got to work.

While Stone contacted the MLEA to make sure they wouldn't be interfered with by the local representatives of the agency, the others hashed out a plan of action. Reluctantly, Captain Sherman and his men had to be left behind. Coming in armed with H&K MP-5 submachine guns would ruin the cover. Lydia and Colonel Hemmings attempting to pass as witches was dangerous enough. Ideally, Hermione and Stone would do this themselves, but they thought they might need Lydia's expertise, and Hemmings ordered that they take her. Still, officially, Hermione was in charge of the team, which pleased her.

"You don't know how he got in?" Stone asked.

"That's what I said," Principal Wilson answered. "They certainly didn't use the Floo Network, anti-Apparition wards were up the whole time, and by tradition, the principal of the Academy is the only one with the knowledge needed to make a Portkey that goes here."

"Inside help?" Hemmings said. Hermione glared at her. Given what Wilson just said, that would be taken... badly.

And it was. "Are you suggesting—"

"Catherine, throwing accusations around will get us nowhere," Hermione said.

Hemmings nodded. Hermione turned back to Wilson. "Could he have simply walked up?"  
"There are Muggle repellent charms—"

"Hund is a wizard," Hermione interrupted.

"I know. But he's not authorized to be here, which means they'd work the same way on him as they would on a Muggle. He'd know what it is, but he wouldn't be able to do anything about it."

"Could he have inside help about that?" Hemmings piped in again.

By the look on Wilson's face, Hemmings touched on a painful point.

Hemmings noticed it. "What is it?" she demanded.

"Catherine!" Hermione said. She turned to the principal. "Mr. Wilson, the MLEA has been after Hund for years. He's—"

"If they have, why'd they send someone so young to this investigation?"

Wilson was definitely right about that. She was the youngest of the group, and her being in charge had to be explained. "That's just it. They've been after him for years, and they gave up. The attitude at the top is, 'oh, another Hund incident, it's hopeless, the investigation won't yield anything.' I intend to prove them wrong."

Wilson sighed. "All right. this isn't a pleasant topic... but... we've had a number of students—older ones especially—who took an active interest in the Dark Arts."

"I suspect any magical school has that problem," Hermione said. "Mine certainly did." _And there's an understatement of the millennium,_ she thought.

"True," Wilson admitted. "But these kids were brazen about it. _Everyone _knew they liked the Dark Arts."

"So why didn't you do anything about them?"

"What could we do? Studying the Dark Arts isn't illegal—not part of the official curriculum, at least here, but we can't prohibit it. Mrs. Patrick tried to stamp it out of them—"

"Who's Mrs. Patrick?"

"Our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," Wilson replied. "She's the one who got killed."

"I'm sorry," Hermione said. The report they got did not give a name or job of the murdered teacher.

"Very few people who study the Dark Arts as teenagers continue with it, and even fewer become killers."

That was true. Hermione remembered how even Malfoy couldn't cast the fatal spell... but Malfoy had no problem with killing indirectly. "They didn't have to be killers. They just had to let a killer in. That's easier."

Wilson lost all color in his face by now. "Five members of the Eagle Club are missing."

"Eagle Club?" Stone asked.

"That's what they called their little Dark Arts study group. Aside from the magic, they all passed themselves off as big-time American patriots."

"So it could have been any—"

"No. We know for certain that they were in their dorms until the attack began."

"And you know that how?" Hemmings asked sarcastically. Hermione didn't stop her this time. It _was_ a good question.

"Video surveillance—"

"You use Muggle—?" Hermione asked, surprised.

"We saved money with it. A good system, protected from magical interference, was a lot cheaper than paying for a set of new surveillance wards."

"Do you use any other Muggle technology?" Lydia spoke for the first time.

"Yes. We have another set of wards that keeps us from being detected by radar and other things like that. We use a computer system to control them—"

_Another blend developed at Fifty-One_, Hermione thought amusingly. But Lydia was on fire now. "Are these linked to the Muggle—or rather, unauthorized person-repelling charms?"

"Yes," Wilson admitted. "Why—"

"Is the computer that controls them connected to the Internet?" Lydia continued.

"No, of course not," Wilson replied. "There's no need—"

"But it _can _be," Lydia insisted.

"Well, yes. But you'd need physical access—"

"Inside help," Stone concluded. "The Eagle Club."

"Are you saying Hund _hacked_ his way in?"

"There's only one way to find out," Lydia said. She took her laptop out. "Let me connect to your ward computer."

"And then?"

"And then—" she smiled, "—we find out which one of us is the better hacker."

"I wouldn't bet on Hund," Hermione said aside to Stone.

But Lydia heard it. "Why, thank you, Hermione. But we shouldn't waste time. Hund's trail is getting colder."

Reluctantly, Principal Wilson nodded.

"While Lydia's working," Hermione said, "I'd like to interview the remaining members of this Eagle Club."

Hemmings nodded to her. _Sigh. I guess I'll have to take her along._ she looked at Stone.

"I'd like to say here and help if Lydia uncovers something," he said.

_Damn. _Alone with Colonel Hemmings. At least she was the one officially in charge, and that put a few restrictions on Hemmings. Nor was she thrilled about the prospect of interviewing a bunch of little Draco Malfoys. But it had to be done, and the division of labor they arranged now was the most sensible.

"I'll call them in," Wilson said.

"One at a time, please," Hemmings told him. "We'll see how consistent their stories stay."

Wilson nodded and left the office. Hermione prepared for a long day's work. This was one of the few times she was glad that, after several years of living in the States, she could completely disguise her accent. If the Eagle Club was a bunch of jingoists like Wilson said, there was no need for them to know that that she was anything other than a red-blooded American.


	25. Episode II: chapter 14

**Chapter 14. **

_September 2002, Salem, Massachusetts._

Harry stared at his arm—or rather, what his arm turned into. It was not a pretty sight. the lower arm looked normal, but it was sticking out of a large mass covered with black feathers. This was his third attempt at an Animagus transformation. It always ended the same way, no matter how much he tried to force the completion.

Harry took his wand, and turned his arm back to normal. He looked at Diana Clarence with disappointment.

"You're not concentrating sufficiently," the Salem Headmistress said.

This frustrated Harry to no end. "I don't see how I can concentrate more." When he first started learning this, he thought it would be like learning a Patronus. Now, the Occlumency lessons seemed a better parallel. Clarence was certainly a better teacher than Snape, but that didn't help.

"There's nothing that can be done about it—you're forcing your body into a shape it wasn't designed for. It has natural resistance, and you need mental powers to overcome it."

"I know. I just..."

"All right, Potter. What's on your mind? You were doing very well—you even know what your from will eventually be—and then, all of a sudden—"

Harry knew she was right. "Cincinnati," he said. "Voldemort's attacks always made sense. This..."

"You haven't been in the first war against him," Clarence said. "He didn't do much in America, mostly recruiting Death Eaters, so I wasn't in the thick of it. But Minerva and I corresponded a lot. She said that attacks were often for nothing—in some cases, truly random, with the victims decided by a roll of the dice."

Ginny entered the room. "Oh, sorry," she said, and made to leave. Ever since Harry started dating Megan, his and Ginny's relationship dwindled to nearly nothing. Once, he spent an evening in the infirmary with Ginny saying not a word while she worked on him.

"No, Ginevra," Clarence said. "We were just talking about Cincinnati—"

"Huh?" Harry asked.

"The Charms teacher of Cincinnati Magical Academy quit after the attack," Clarence explained. "Principal Wilson sought my advice for a quick replacement, an Ginevra asked me to recommend her, which I did."

"And he accepted," Ginny said. "Not like there was a flood of applications after—"

"Ginny—" Harry began, and cut himself off. What could he say? That there could be another attack? That was true anywhere. That he wanted her close by? She'd immediately ask why—a question he wouldn't be able to answer. That he wanted to protect her? Considering what that urge cost him last time, he wasn't about to try it again.

She looked ready for a challenge, but said nothing.

"Sit down, Ginevra," Clarence said. "We were talking about possible reasons for the attack."

"Oh," she said, and sat down.

"Ginny, are you trying to lure Hund out? With yourself as bait?"  
"Of course not!" she said angrily. "I'm trying to gather information. I want to get Hund—and I don't see you having much success on that front."

That was cruel. That was even more cruel because it was true. Harry opened his mouth.

"Ginevra, apologize," Clarence ordered. "_No one_ succeeded there yet."

Ginny sighed. "Sorry, Harry. As for the bait idea, I don't see why Hund would want me. I rejected his offer to work for him once, I'll do it again—"

"Professor, you told me that he views knowing his name as an honor—a sign that he respects that person."

Clarence nodded.

He turned to Ginny. "And he did give you his name."

"True," Ginny admitted. "I still don't know why."

"You're a powerful, smart, talented, attractive young woman," he said, smiling.

Ginny smiled back. "Thank you. Maybe. But somehow, I don't think it's that. And I want to learn more about what happened. This attack made no sense."

"That's what I was saying, Professor," Harry said. "The attacks you mentioned differed in one aspects—they were constant. Day after day, week after week—people were afraid of their own shadows. That was the purpose. Not that it isn't a good thing, but the Cincinnati attack was the only one recently." _The only one since what happened to Xenophilius Lovegood and Augusta Longbottom, anyway._

Clarence nodded. "True—although, look in the Muggle world. 9/11 was also isolated."

He shrugged. "I wouldn't know. I was still in Azkaban when it happened. But with that attack, the shock came from sheer scale. If the death toll at Cincinnati was several hundred people, that'd also change things. As it is..."

"Well, if it was Hund behind it—and I think it is, but the MLEA is very quiet about it, so we don't know for sure—then it _did_ have a purpose. Hund never does anything for no reason," Clarence said.

"I know," Ginny said. "I'll try to find out what that reason is, Professor."

"You're leaving tonight?" Clarence asked.

Ginny nodded. "Thank you Professor." She stood up and hugged the old woman. "Harry..."

He looked into her eyes. "Ginny... I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't... I didn't..."

"What're you trying to say, Harry?" she asked, softly.

"I..." He didn't quite know what to say himself. "I care about you, Ginny."

"I know," she said. "That was never the problem."

Harry didn't want to tell Ginny to be careful—well, he did, but he didn't want her to take that the wrong way. "Take care of yourself, Ginny," he said. "Good luck."

"Thanks," she replied, and, surprising Harry, hugged him tightly. "You too."

"I'll miss you," he said, honestly.

"We'll see each other again," she assured him. "And we could write—which reminds me. I got this this morning by owl," she said, and took out a large envelope out of her back. She reached inside it and pulled out a smaller, letter-sized envelope. It was addressed to him!

"Here you go," she said. "Apparently, someone decided to contact you through me—I have no idea why he'd think I'd be able to, though."

"Thanks, Ginny. I'll have to open and find out, won't I?"

She smiled. "Good-bye, Harry," she said and hugged him again. "Good-bye, Professor." She left the office.

Out of the window, Harry watched as Ginny left the building, crossed the grounds to the edge of the SWI territory, and Disapparated. He then turned back to Clarence.

"I wonder who, after all this time, would contact me through _Ginny_..." He picked up the envelope.

"Potter, that could be dangerous," Clarence warned him. He waved her wand over it. "Hmm..." she said. "It's magical, but not dark. That doesn't mean much, however."

"We were just talking about living in fear, Professor. If an envelope can make us do this..."

"I know, I don't like it, but you can't be too careful."

Harry sighed. "Well, I'm not wasting months, like they did with my Firebolt," he announced, picking up the envelope and opening it.

And immediately regretted it as he was caught in the swirl of a Portkey.

XXX

Harry sat on the floor for several seconds, blinking, under bright electric lights. Then he stood up, still dizzy from the experience of Portkey travel. He was in a long corridor with uniform gray walls and a soft blue carpet. It was neither warm nor cold, and the air smell artificial. Harry saw nothing else—no doors, no windows, no furniture... an empty, featureless corridor.

He turned around, and corrected himself. He was facing the same corridor, but it was shorter, and a red exit sign glowed at the end. Harry walked towards it and opened the door.

He whistled. A dimly lit staircase headed down... for what seemed like forever. Leaning over the railing, he looked and couldn't see the bottom. He then looked back at the door. A large number 101 was printed on it. Looking at the staircase, he had no doubt that the number was telling the truth.

Harry went back into the corridor. He didn't fancy the idea of heading down 101 flights of stairs... the only good thing to say about that prospect was that it was better than having to head _up_ 101 flights of stairs, thought not by much. If he could find an elevator, or better yet, if he could find whoever masterminded this in the first place and give him a few good hexes...

He headed down the corridor. It didn't change, didn't show anything. The only way harry measured progress was by periodically looking back. The exit sign was getting smaller. And then...

Harry stood in front of a solid wooden door. He reached for the handle, almost expecting to get stung, and, surprised that he wasn't, turned it. He stepped into a well-lit, spacious office. The chair behind the desk had its back to him, so he couldn't see if anyone was there.

Then the chair began to turn, and the man in it faced Harry. "Welcome to Chicago, Mr. Potter," Alan Hund said.


	26. Episode II: chapter 15

**Chapter 15. **

"You!" Harry yelled, and reached for his wand.

"There'll be none of that, Mr. Potter." Hund stood up, his own wand in his hand. "I didn't bring you here to duel you—not that you'd be much of a challenge."

Harry aimed his wand at the man. Hund lazily raised his own to block. He was still smiling. "We really should talk."

"We have nothing to talk about. You sent me to jail—"

Hund reached into his pocket and tossed something to him. Harry, shocked by recognition, barely managed to catch it. It was his invisibility cloak.

"You stole—"

"Borrowed," Hund corrected.

"I didn't give you permission—"

"I couldn't have asked—"

"I wouldn't give—"

"Does it matter? I put it to some good use, but now, I am returning it. I do acknowledge you as the rightful owner."

"Oh, thanks a lot," Harry said sarcastically. "_Good use_? What you and I consider to be good use are liable to be two different things."

"What makes you say that?" Hund asked.

Harry laughed. He had a perfect response to that. "Cincinnati."

"And your evidence that I had anything to do with that is...?" Hund let the question hang in the air. Did he really think Harry was that stupid?

"Sometimes I think defeating Voldemort had clouded your judgment, Mr. Potter. There was only one Voldemort. I am not another."

"How did you get me here? And were his here, anyway?"

"Like I said, Potter, you're in Chicago. The top of the Sears Tower, in a special section protected by magical wards. And as for how..." Hund laughed. "It was very simple, considering my allies."

"Allies?" Harry asked.

"One ally in particular," he said. "Come in, Mrs. Malfoy."

Harry aimed his wand at the side door, through which Ginny stepped in. "You!" he shouted. "I believed you—"

"A mistake on your part, Mr. Potter. Of course, it would have been easier had—"

He didn't finish. He didn't need to. _Had I jumped into her arms the moment I saw her._ It was probably true, too.

"Hello, Harry," Ginny said. "The game is up, apparently."

"Apparently. It should have been up the moment you married Malfoy, though. How could I have been—"

"Mr. Potter," Hund interrupted, "I brought you here to talk."

"About what?"

"We don't have to be enemies, Mr. Potter. Surely you realize that."

"Oh? We should be friends, then?"

"I am going to rule wizarding America one day," Hund said. "I've had enough of us bowing down to the Muggle world."

"And you want my help? No thanks," Harry said.

"I neither need nor want your help. But America has nothing do with you. Go back to Britain—you can take it over, you know."

Whatever Harry expected, this wasn't it. "Yeah. It's that easy," he said. "The Ministry, the Aurors are just going to—"

"Kill them," Hund said. "Don't pretend you don't want revenge for everything they've done to you. I know you better than that."

"You don't know me at all," Harry spat. "And the worst thing they did was throw me in prison—and you had something to do with that, I recall."

"I had to cooperate so I could get information out of Bellatrix. It was her idea all along. We broke up since then. If you kill her, I won't shed a tear."

"I have no intention of killing anyone," he said.

"You killed Voldemort," Hund pointed out.

"That was different."

"How so? Oh, wait. He wasn't innocent. Well, innocence is a matter of degree, Mr. Potter, and I think it's time you learned that."

"I don't think so," Harry said. "I have no desire to become a murderer."

"You know, Potter," Hund said suddenly, "we're quite alike."

"We're nothing alike," Harry replied.

"One way in which we're alike," Hund continued, "is that neither of us has much respect for the law."

"What. I—"

"Don't lie to me, Potter. You aren't a weak person—quite the contrary."

"So? The law—"

"The law is about hampering the strong from doing what they need to do. Did you give a damn about the law when you hunted Voldemort? Did you give a damn about the law when you went after the late Mr. Malfoy? Did Dumbledore give a damn about the law when Fudge moved against him?" He laughed. "There's a perfect example of what the law does. An idiot like Fudge strutting around like a king while Dumbledore is forced to skulk. Is that your ideal world, Mr. Potter? Because I am really sorry for you if it is."

"Voldemort didn't give a damn about the law either."

"True. That was a strength. And you realized that, didn't you? If you were going to defeat him, you couldn't stick to the law either. And neither can I. All I need from you is that you do not waste your and my time trying to stop me. Go back to Britain and leave America to me. If you wish, you can even marry Mrs. Malfoy and take her with you—she does love you, although I don't really understand that. I'd miss her assistance—"

"I have no intention of marrying Ginny," Harry said sharply. Ginny looked ready to burst into tears. _Serves her right_.

"Glad to hear it," Hund said.

"You won't be so glad when you her me out." He turned to Ginny. "You've betrayed me twice now. I shouldn't have been surprised—I won't be again, you can count on that. As for you,—" he looked at Hund, "—you're wrong. We must, indeed, be enemies. I will do everything I can to stop you. And I can do a lot." With that, he fired off a Stunner, which crumpled Ginny before she could even reach for her wand, and turned to Hund.

A hard object hit him in the chest, and he gasped. By the time he aimed his wand, he was, once again, hurling through space.

He landed on the floor of the bar in Salem. He stood up, brushed the dust off his robes, and ran out, ignoring the looks customers sent his way. He had to get to Clarence.

"Harry!" a voice shouted as he approached the school buildings.

"Megan!" he yelled, and ran up to kiss her. "How'd it go?"

"They'll let me stand trials!" she shouted with excitement. "Last week of October."

"You'll pass," Harry assured her. "And you'll get in, and in two years or so, you'll graduate as an Auror."

"Thanks," she said. "Celebrate?"

"I have to see Professor Clarence first." He frowned. "But then, yes, we can celebrate." _It'll __help me forget about... _everything, _anyway._

Megan followed him into the Headmistress's office. "Come in," Clarence said, choking on the words.

They entered. Clarence was not alone; Professor Lyman was there as well. They both turned.

"Harry!" Clarence shouted. "What happened? Who—? Are you all right? We were about—"

Megan turned to him. "All right, Harry, the full story. What were you up to?" she demanded.

Harry explained to her how he got the envelope that was a Portkey. "And?" Megan asked.

"And what?"

"Where'd it take you? Who was behind it?" Clarence asked.

"It took met to Chicago. Straight to Hund."

"Hund..." Professor Lyman muttered.

"We... talked. He wanted me to leave him alone while he took over the U.S."

"You refused, of course," Megan said.

"He offered to let me take over Britain. But yes, I refused. Then he tossed another Portkey at me and sent me back."

"What I'd like to know," Clarence said thoughtfully, "is how Hund found out you were here."

Harry laughed. "That's very simple, Professor. Ginny works for him."


	27. Episode II: chapter 16

**Chapter 16.**

_October 2002, Chicago, Illinois._

"Can I ask you a question, Ms. Granger-Weasley?" Catherine Hemmings scrutinized Hermione. Hermione didn't like doing this—she never thought the search for Hund would mean impersonating members of other organizations so much. Nominally, Hemmings was in command. In practice, Joe Stone usually decided what the team would do—and Hermione decided how.

"Sure, ma'am," Hermione answered. They wore ordinary Muggle clothes here in Chicago, but they also carried fake Chicago Police Department Ids. They were here to investigate the possibility that Hund was behind...

"Do they teach logic at those magical schools of yours?"

"What're you implying?" Hermione demanded. "That I'm—"

"Oh, _you_ are all right," Hemmings conceded. "But the more I work with you, the less sense it makes—this riot is just the latest example."

Yesterday, Chicago was a site of an anti-Muggle riot similar to the Death Eaters' appearance at the Quidditch World Cup in England eight years before, but much larger—according to eyewitnesses, it involved at least two hundred wizards.

"It's a riot. By definition, that's spontaneous. In my opinion, Stone is—"

"_I_ don't think so," Hemmings interrupted. "Why now? There hasn't been anything on this scale in decades."

That was true. The riot was enormous. Seven Muggles were dead, two from killing curses, three when a media helicopter was blasted and sent into Lake Michigan, and two others who couldn't escape the fires. Almost a hundred were heavily injured, including five wizards—once the Muggles got over the initial shock of seeing what they saw, some tried tried to defend themselves. Some of them had guns. Hermione thought shield charms could stop bullets... but she wasn't eager to test the theory.

"We would be asking that whenever it happened. It's not the first time in history, is it?"

"Well, no," Hemmings said. "I have to say, the response was admirable."

The riot had lasted less than fifteen minutes when the MLEA acted. Teams of Aurors began Apparating right in the midst of rioters, and sent Stunners in every direction, sapping their strength. Once that was done, the area of the riot was secured, anti-Apparition wards went up, and everyone caught inside was detained and interrogated. Memory Charms were used on the Muggles, and a story about mechanical breakdowns was sent to cover up the helicopter crash. The only actual video footage of the riot was in that helicopter, and the MLEA made sure they got there first. Finally, special teams went in to repair everything they could by magic, and a powerful rainstorm was conjured for the night so that a reason existed for anything they couldn't.

Hermione nodded. Yes, the response was admirable. She wished they didn't need to do any o fit. Still... "All right, Colonel. Suppose someone's behind this. Suppose Hund's behind this. Why?"

"More importantly, how do we stop him from doing something like this again?" Hemmings said.

Hermione tried to think up of an answer when a man bumped into her. He was constantly muttering to himself, "I am not crazy. I am not crazy. I am not—oh, sorry, ma'am."

"It's all right. What were you saying?"

The man sighed. "I try to tell people what I saw last night, but they don't believe me. But I know what I saw. I am not crazy."

Hermione nodded at Hemmings. "Why don't you tell us," she said. "I've seen a lot of strange things; maybe I won't think you're crazy."

They sat down on a park bench. "Last night, I was sitting at my computer when I hear shouts outside, on the streets. There was a large crowd dressed weirdly—"

"What do you mean, weirdly?" Hermione asked.

"Robes and cloaks, mostly. Like out of a fantasy movie, you know. And they all held these short sticks." The man gulped. "They did things with them. They waved them, and fires started—it was like magic. And then…" The man stopped, terrified.

"Go on," Hermione said gently.

"Their leader was—"

"They had a leader?" Hemmings prompted. Hermione glared at her. If this man suspected something about them—

But he didn't. "Yeah, they did what she told them to, it looked like. Don't know why, there were guys much bigger than her among them—she was a small little thing, really. Long red hair—"

Hermione tried not to appear frustrated. If this was someone independent of Hund… then there were two dark wizards running around America terrorizing people. If—

"I think she saw me, next thing I know, she's flying towards my window. On a broom!"  
"A what?" Hemmings asked.

"A broom. You think it's fairy tale stuff, witches and things. But I saw it why my own eyes. Everything but the black cat, sure enough. So she flies up to my window, and the glass just shatters. I ducked from that, then ran. I heard her yell something like 'abracadabra' behind me—next thing I know, half my kitchen is wrecked, and I've got a splinter in my arm." He pulled up his shirt sleeve and showed a large bandage. "I'll now have to live with my brother till they repair the apartment—"

"Can we see your apartment?" Hermione asked.

"Hermione, what do—?"

"Can we?" she repeated.

"Sure. My brother doesn't believe me. Says I got drunk and set my own apartment on fire. Let me tell you, a fire wouldn't have done it. Well, come on. I'll show it."

"Thanks. What's your name, by the way?"

"Nathaniel," the man introduced himself. "Nathaniel Raymond."

"Hermione Bender," Hermione said. "This is Catherine Hemmings."

"Pleased to meet you."

Nathaniel led them to an apartment on the second floor of a thirteen-story building. "The front door's intact—there's a miracle," he said, taking out his keys. He unlocked it and led them in.

"Shit," Hemmings summarized the state of the apartment.

"Yeah, lady, and it's not even your place. Imagine how I feel."

"Well, I can say one thing, Nathaniel." Hermione closed the front door. "You are not crazy."

"You believe me?" Nathaniel asked, surprised.

"I believe you," Hermione said.

"But I saw—"

"You saw what you saw. You're lucky about this—she missed."

"Missed?" Nathaniel asked.

Hermione nodded. "She was aiming for you." Nathaniel shuddered.

"Catherine." Hermione looked at Hemmings. If Nathaniel attacked her, she'd have to stun him, and she didn't want to. Hemmings nodded.

"Now, Nathaniel, please don't be afraid," Hermione said, before taking out her wand.

"You—You're one of them!" He tried to rush, but Hemmings restrained him.

"Nathaniel, you weren't trick. There really are witches and wizards."  
"Hermione, what—"

"And yes, I am one of them," Hermione said, ignoring the other woman.

"Came to finish the job?" Nathaniel asked.

Hermione shook her head. "There's a difference between them and me," she said.

"What's that?"

"I'm a good witch. _Reparo!_" A hole in the wall filled with fragments, which jumped to their position and fused together. Same things began happening with other parts of the mess, and in fifteen minutes, the kitchen looked completely normal. Hermione, followed by Nathaniel and Catherine, proceeded into the bedroom. Small pockmarks from the glass shards vanished one by one. "I can't do anything about the computer, Nathaniel, but…" She waved her wand, and the crack in the monitor vanished. "It won't work, but at least you won't get weird questions when you take it to get it repaired." She pointed her wand at the window, and a new pane of glass appeared out of thin air. She looked around and nodded.

"Wow," Nathaniel said. "How can I ever thank you?"

"You already did," she said. She didn't know if the information he gave would prove valuable, but it was the best thing to say.

"I am really, really, sorry, Nathaniel," Hermione said as she aimed her wand at him. "_Obliviate!_"

She then took Hemmings' hand and Apparated her before he became aware again.

"You're ruthless, do you know that?" Hemmings said later that day, when they were back at Area 51 discussing the news.

Hermione shrugged. "I knew I'd have to do that eventually, so I figured to get it over with quickly. Mind you, I'd rather not _have_ to do that all."

"We don't make policy," Hemmings said. "It's your law, you have to follow it.

"Nothing else? All right. Dismissed," she said. "Make sure you're here tomorrow. Jones says she may have found something."

Hermione hasn't seen Lydia for a few days, and had started to worry. _Oh, so there's an explanation._

As she headed towards the Apparition point she wondered if she should have mentioned Bellatrix. The Death Eater wasn't a redhead, but appearance altering charms, hair dye, and Polyjuice Potion weren't exactly unknowns. And she would be just the type to incite anti-Muggle riots.

As soon as she Apparated to her house, she forgot all about that, though. Something was wrong. Ron sat on the couch, numb.

"Honey? What happened?"

Ron pointed to a paper lying on the floor. "Percy's injured. They—they don't think he'll make it."

Hermione dropped her wand and picked up the paper. It was the _Daily Prophet_ form the day before—which meant that events it described where from two days ago—or two and a half, given the time difference. _Too bad there's no wizarding Internet yet_, she thought.

"RAID ON THE MINISTRY!" the headline screamed. "Death Eater remnants attack the Department of Mysteries!" She read, "and frowned more and more as she did. Bellatrix Lestrange was definitely involved. And the article didn't stop there. "According to a reliable source, since the defeat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named four years ago, Lestrange has been known to work with an American dark wizard named Alan Hund." _Harry must have found some way to get this to them, and get them to believe it… I wonder how._

She then read the part about Percy. He tried to stop Bellatrix from leaving the Ministry, and she tortured him. If he ended up like the Longbottoms—

"We should visit him," Ron said. "I'm going tomorrow."

_Tomorrow. But…_ "I can't," she said.

"What?!" Ron leaped. "Why the—"

"Calm down! We're in the middle of something important—"

"More important than this? Where are your priorities, Hermione?"

"Look, I'll come in a few days—"

"In a few days, Percy might be dead," Ron said.

"I'm not a Healer, I can't do anything about it." _Did I just say that? No…_

Ron exploded. "He'd want to see you! The way things are going, _I_ hardly see you. What the bloody hell are you doing that's so important?"

"I can't tell you, you know that—"

"Of course. I knew it was a mistake—"

"Oh, do you want a docile housewife? You married the wrong woman—"

"I want you! I want to you be with us instead of—"

"I earn the money in this family!"

"It's not like we need it," Ron muttered.

"I'm not going to live off Harry!"

"Harry isn't using it, either. And if it means you being here—"

"We need to do this Ron. My team has just stumbled on—"

"Forget it!" Ron threw up his hands. Before Hermione could say anything, he vanished.

Frustrated, forcing herself not to cry, she went to see Caroline. The girl was sleeping, and Hermione had to bite back the tears. It was a while since they really spent time together as a family. And…

The next morning, when she woke up, Caroline wasn't in the house. A note waited for her in the kitchen.

_You know were we went, Hermione. We want you to join us. I love you._

_-Ron._


	28. Episode II: chapter 17

**Chapter 17.**

No matter how early Hermione came into work, Catherine Hemmings always got there before her. But she wasn't there today.

"Good morning, Hermione," Joseph Stone said from his desk.

"I wish it was," she grumbled.

"Trouble?"

"Ron and I has a fight."

"Let me guess. It was about the fact that you spend too much time here and not enough time with him."

"Well… yes."

"Stone looked at her. "This happens in our line of work."

Hermione knew that, of course. "And how do people deal with it?"

Stone leaned back. "They tell you when you join that the Agency is your mother, father and spouse—everyone else is a houseguest."

"I don't want to live like that!"

"No one does. But I've known very few couples who got married _after_ they joined the Agency—and those that did met their spouse there. That should tell you something."

"If you're both working—"

"It doesn't make much of a difference. The Agency is compartmentalized. You're not allowed to tell your spouse what you're doing. For all you know, she may be looking whether you're a mole. For all she knows, you're doing the same thing. And guess what? It could be both!"

That didn't occur to Hermione. "How do people live like that?"

"Well, I don't have personal experience—I never married. But these intra-agency couples were the happiest I've seen there. They're quite rare, too. Usually, people just have sex with other Agency employees. It really is nothing but sex. You can't build a relationship without communication, and they're not allowed to talk about anything."

Hermione swore. "How do those who were married before they came in deal with it?"  
"Well, as I said, the Agency is your spouse. Most people have trouble dealing with one marriage, let alone two. One or the other ends."

"They get divorced?"

"Often, they don't even bother. Officially or not, it's not a marriage. Otherwise, they leave the Agency. Let me tell you something—that happens less frequently than the other one. And if that doesn't tell you something about—"

"Can't anything be done about it?"

"No. It's the nature of intelligence work."

"Why? Sometimes we have to work non-stop, but there's overtime in every job. Mostly, we just have a normal eight-hour day—"

"It's not the time. You could have six-hour days, and you'll still have the same problems."

"But… why?"

"Intelligence is unique. If you're an expert at Transfiguration, the best there is, or potions, or, to go to the Muggle side, a doctor or lawyer—practically any profession—you want people to know about you. Being famous is a benefit. You get famous due to your successes."

"And?"

"In intelligence, the famous people are the failures. The ones who got caught…. So, you don't want people to know what you do. Not even your spouse."

"I know that," Hermione said.

"People aren't objective about their own circumstances," Stone said. "If you looked at one week and actually calculated how much time you spent together with your husband, it would be more than you think. And if a couple with normal jobs did the same, it would be less than they think."

"Why?"

"Because they're allowed to share the time they _don't_ spend together, and you are not," he said. "And we'll have to finish this some other time." Catherine Hemmings walked in.

"Good morning. If you haven't heard already, two days ago, the British magical government was attacked b y someone who might be working for Hund."

_Oh, I've heard, all right, _Hermione thought.

"Because of the possibility, several of their Aurors have been sent to work with the MLEA to cooperate in the hunt. One of them will join us. She's in the process of being grilled by General Chandler right now regarding the rules of Fifty-One. Or maybe not anymore," she said as the door opened.

Hermione nearly jumped at seeing who came in. "Padma!" she exclaimed.

XXX

"Hermione!" Padma hugged her. "Small world, right?"  
"You know each other?" Captain Sherman asked.

"We went to school together," Hermione said. "How're you?"

"I'm an Auror." Padma shrugged. "The only one of our class who became one, interestingly enough."

"As touching as this reunion is," Hemmings interrupted them, "we don't have time for it."

"Sorry," Padma and Hermione said together.

"All right," Hemmings said. "Jones, let's hear your report first."

Lydia looked around. "The order to start the Chicago riot came by e-mail," she said. "I've traced it in the 'Net, but, since it's an unusual server, I cannot determine the physical location—yet. But I've put tripwire software to catch any messages in or out of it. Now, we might be able to respond to the next incident, instead of coming in after. The MLEA could only question ordinary rioters last time—the ringleaders got away. With this, maybe they—or we—will be luckier."

"Thank you," Hemmings said. "Patil?"

Padma looked around. "Despite what you may have read in the newspapers, the raid wasn't Death Eaters having a fun reunion. It was well planned, with a clear objective, and I'm sorry to say that that objective has been accomplished."

"What was it?" Hermione asked.

"Tricorn carcasses."

"Please be serious, Auror Patil."

"I am serious. There were two tricorn carcasses stored in the Department of Mysteries under strong preservation spells. They're gone."

"Why would anyone—"

"Tricorn parts were used in many strong and useful potions," Padma said.

"Why didn't they just get a live tricorn?" Hemmings asked.

"If you can do that, the wizarding world will be extremely grateful, seeing as the last tricorn was killed in the mountains of Italy in 1753."

"Oh," Hemmings said.

"Right," Padma said. "But we don't know why either Hund or the Death Eaters might need it—which potions they might try to make."

"Well, you're the experts at this," Hemmings said, looking at Hermione, Padma, and Stone. "Try to figure it out before he uses it. Jones, good work. Keep tracing that trail. Hopefully, it'll lead somewhere."

"Colonel Hemmings?" Hermione asked her.

"Yes?"

"I need a few days off."  
"What? Why?"

"Family issue," she said. "I need to—"

Stone looked at her curiously. Hemmings shook her head. "We need you—"

"Colonel," Padma interrupted, "I dare say I can fill Hermione's place for a couple of days."

"Thanks," Hermione said.

"Wait," Hemmings protested. "What makes you think—?"

"You want me to find out what Hund might use the tricorns for? I can do that probably better than her, since I had to research that just recently. As for anything else? Well, I was second in my class…"

"Who was first?" Hemmings asked.

"Who do you think?" Padma chuckled. "Take care, Hermione. I'll try not to do such a good job that they replace you permanently."

"Ha, ha," Hermione said. But she smiled and hugged her former schoolmate. "I'll see you next week."

Because of the information she had to deal with, she usually left her work a lot less cheerful than she came in. Today turned out to be an exception.


	29. Episode II: chapter 18

**Chapter 18.**

_November 2002, Salem, Massachusetts._

Harry paced nervously. "Don't worry about it," Clarence said. "Nothing will go wrong."

"If Megan doesn't pass, it means I'm a bad teacher. And then Megan won't want anything—"

"It means nothing of the sort," Clarence said. "Auror admissions are tough. They're supposed to be, considering the training—and the job."

Before Harry could reply, Megan appeared out of thin air and landed.

"Megan!" Harry looked at her. "How—did—"

She gave a broad grin. "I passed! Harry, I passed!" she yelled. "I'll be entering Auror training in January!"

Harry embraced her. "Congratulations!" he kissed her. "Why don't we celebrate with a romantic dinner?"

"Here? The pub is hardly what you'd call romantic—"

"Do you have any formal Muggle clothes?" Megan nodded. "Well, no problem, then. I've reserved us a place in a nice restaurant in Boston. Trust me, it'll be romantic."

"Well, you convinced me," Megan said. "What if I didn't pass?"

"Well, we'll never find out now, will we? And I say it's a good thing." Megan laughed.

But Harry couldn't be happy for himself the way he was for Megan. It didn't take Megan long into their dinner to notice it.

"Something wrong?"

"Have you heard about the attack on the British Ministry?" he asked.

"Some. It—"

"It was Hund. And you probably didn't notice the follow-up."

"What follow-up?"

"Oh. Not a major event for a high and mighty American paper, I see."

"We're not all bad," Megan said.

"I know, I was just…"

"Looking for a target?"

"Sort of. What're you supposed to do when your best friend's brother is dead and you can't even attend the funeral because, officially, you're dead yourself?"

"I don't know. I've never been in that situation. But what can you do?"

"Catch Hund. Make him pay."

"It won't bring any of them back. You know that."

"I know. But… it's like the whole thing is starting all over again. The rollup to war. And now, you're going to end up in it."

"Hey, I chose to do this."

"I know that. It's just… I knew seven Weasley siblings. Now there are two left. I don't think I ever thought it would come do this—"

"Two? But I thought—"

"_Two_," Harry said. "Ginny lost that honor. She can be Mrs. Malfoy, if she feels like it. I don't care."

"You're bitter."

"Wouldn't you be?"

"Possibly. I don't like being tricked either."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't—"

"Listen, what am I here for if not to provide some emotional comfort? Isn't that a point of a relationship?"

"Well… it shouldn't be so one-sided."

"It's not, trust me." She thought for a moment. "Why don't you come to California and visit my family? They'll be glad to meet you. I'll stay with them till New Year's, before I have to go into training."

"California?" Harry asked.

"San Francisco is a great place. A large wizarding community, too. Nothing's keeping you here, is it?"  
"Well—"

"Well, what?"

"I need to thank Professor Clarence for all her—"

"She'll tell you to relax, live a good life, and use what she taught you to catch Hund. _In that order_. She won't be upset. Even heroes need vacations."

"Well… since I am done with—"

"You mean, you're an Animagus? What's your form?  
"You'll see," Harry said, smiling now. "San Francisco…"

"Yes."

"Well, I haven't been there yet. And as you said, nothing's keeping me here. I actually think _I_ was keeping you here."

"It was worth it," Megan said. "I got into the program, and I got to know you."

"Thanks. So, New Year's in San Francisco?"

Megan nodded. "We should watch the fireworks off the Golden Gate Bridge. That'll be awesome."

"Well, you've sold me." He laughed. "I haven't really _celebrated_ New Years since… well, a long time."

"Oh, you poor thing," Megan mocked. "Trust me, I'll make up for the missed times."

"You're wonderful. Anyone ever told you that?"

"You, right before I left for my admissions test. And on that date the week before. And—"

Harry laughed. "I'll be telling you that a few more times."

"I'm looking forward to it."

Harry leaned across the table and kissed her. "Good. So am I."


	30. Another note

I have decided to remove Hermione as a main character in the story. I used to get complaints simply from people who simply mistakenly thought the story has a Harry/Hermione romantic relationship, but now, the people who have been referred to as delusional, and who think lack of Harry/Hermione is a moral affront to the story. Fine. You win. This story no longer lists Harry and Hermione as main characters.

A few things, however:

1. Harry/Hermione is **not** morally superior to Ron/Hermione, Harry/Ginny, Harry/Padma, or another similar ship.

2. If you think the story is boring, lack of Harry/Hermione is probably not the reason.

3. Regular updates of the story will resume in about a week.


	31. Episode II: chapter 19

**Chapter 19.**

_December 2002, San Francisco, California._

Harry looked in the mirror, frowning. He knew trying to get his hair to lie flat was pointless, and at least today, he didn't want to use any disguise spells save for those that hid his scar. But he wanted to at least take a step away from looking like he had slept in a cramped car.

He smiled. Whether he'd tame his hair or not, today would be perfect. Later today, he'd pick up Megan from her parents, and they'd have dinner. Then they'd head for the Golden Gate Bridge and wait for the New Year to watch the fireworks. And at midnight, when the fireworks went off, Harry would ask Megan to marry him.

He spent days picking out a ring, but now, it was inside the drawer of his table, waiting.

The phone rang. He ran to pick it up, hoping it was Megan.

It wasn't. "Mr. Evans?" an unfamiliar voice said. He rented this apartment under his usual assumed name, so it wasn't exactly shocking that someone would address him this way.

"Yes?" Harry asked. "Who's this?"

"Do you have a suit?"

"What?"

"Do you have a suit?"

"Yes," Harry blurted out. "Who—"

"Come to Sheraton Hotel at noon today. Ask the desk for Mr. Clavell. He has information you may consider important."

"What—what kind of information—who the heck—"

"Information about our mutual enemy. I'll see you at noon, Mr. Evans." The phone clicked.

Harry frowned. Whatever this was, it was unexpected. He didn't want this day disrupted. His first urge was to call Megan and tell her about the call. Of course, she could just think it was a prank, which he doubted.

What mutual enemy could the man be talking about? Hund? It was certainly possible, but Harry didn't know how someone like that would trace him. And if that was the case, he wanted to find out.

The only way to do that was to do as the voice on the phone said. And he'd still have time to pick up Megan if the meeting didn't take too long.

That decided it. Harry put on his suit, and Apparated to a magical bar in the downtown. He then headed into the city, towards the Sheraton.

When asked for Mr. Clavell, a bellhop led him inside, and pointed out a table. The man at the table had his back to him, but Harry recognized some of those features. _Damn_, he thought. If the man planned to somehow shock him, he would be disappointed.

"Hello, Mr. _Evans_," the man said.

"Hello, Mr. _Clavell_," Harry replied, sitting down across the table from Alan Hund.

XXX

Hund laughed. "I told you we were alike, Potter. Here's one more way."

"This proves nothing."

"Why not?"

"Because both of us have to use fake names due to what _you_ did."

Hund shrugged. "I told you, that was the past. Isn't the future more important?"

"Yeah, it's important to have a future without you in it."

Hund wasn't fazed. He poured wine for both himself and Harry. "Drink, Potter?"

"Yeah, I'm really going to drink something you gave me. Do I look stupid?"

Hund drank the wine. "You really should thank me, Potter."

"Why's that."

"I prevented Voldemort from rising for the third time."

"He couldn't have. I destroyed all—"

"Nagini was never a Horcrux, Potter."

"What? Now you're making shit up. How—"

"Dumbledore made a mistake. An understandable mistake, but a mistake. Voldemort did not make his snake into a Horcrux, although he did make a living thing into one."

"What was it, then?" And how do you know?"

"Not what, who. Bellatrix."

Harry wanted to say Hund was crazy. But all of a sudden, what he said made a lot of sense. Bellatrix certainly wouldn't mind carrying a piece of Voldemort's soul inside her. She'd be proud to do it. And—

"How did you stop her?"

"I had to get her to trust me enough to tell me where the graveyard where he was resurrected for the first time was, and what Voldemort used to get back his body."

"Bone of the father…"

"Yes."

"You could have asked me."

"Gaining Bellatrix's trust seemed easier."

"Was that a compliment or an insult?"

"Take it however you please."

"Bellatrix is powerful. I'm sure you'll grant her that. Veritaserum, the Imperius Curse… all had a chance of failing. I had to gain her trust to learn what I needed… And then I went to the graveyard and pulverized the bones of Tom Riddle, Sr. No one will ever use them in any potion again."

"Considering the raid on the Ministry of Magic two months ago, you seem to be working together fine."

"I had nothing to do with that. The papers reported it, yes… but I believe that report originated with you."

Harry knew that the "reliable source" was likely Neville, Luna, or someone who knew them. He didn't want to admit that Hund was right. "Just what makes you think you're safe here?"

Hund smiled. "Just what makes you think I'm not?"

"I can go to the MLEA right now—"

"And they'd listen to you—why? Remember, you're dead."

Harry grumbled. Hund was right again. "Why are you telling me this now?"

"Like I said, Potter, we don't need to be enemies. You owe me for—"

"I owe you nothing. You stopped Bellatrix since you're a wannabe Voldemort yourself. I am not interested in your 'offer'. It's probably as genuine as your cooperation with Bellatrix was." He reached for his wand.

Hund vanished out of his chair. Harry stood for a moment, and then headed outside. He didn't want to think about Hund. Not now. Not when he was less than twelve hours from proposing to Megan.


	32. Episode II: chapter 20

**Chapter 20.**

_Las Vegas, Nevada._

"I don't feel like celebrating," Ron said.

"Oh, Ron." Hermione sat down and took his hands. "I miss him too. I miss..."

"I know." He looked at her. "Remember how close we all were? All my family, you, Harry... Now... Bill and Fleur are on the other side of the world, Harry is God knows were, Ginny..."

"I know, Ron. What can you do? Harry refused to leave us any contact—he told me he's afraid Hund will find it." _And I can't blame him. Not after I've seen firsthand was Hund is like._

"Hermione, don't you think that's taking things a bit too far?"  
"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I don't think Harry has been the same—"

"Of course he hasn't! You've been around Dementors, you know what they do. Imagine being around them for months... and Harry has experienced things we haven't."

"That's what I mean. How much of what he fears is justified, and how much is in his head?"

"I don't think he knows. I don't think anyone knows. But it's definitely not _entirely _paranoia."

"I just wish Ginny hadn't—"

"Ron, you shouldn't think sad thoughts today."

"Why not?"

"It's New Year's. You start sad, you're going to be sad all year."

"That's nonsense."

"Not really. It's not superstition; it's your own attitude. And that's vital. And Harry can take care of himself."

"Judging by what happened—"

"That was Hund's doing, Ron. Just like—" Hermione stopped herself, fearing she already said too much.

And she was right. "Just like what?"

Hermione said nothing. _Damn, damn..._

"Just like what, Hermione? What else did Hund do, and why don't I—"

"Ron, I—"

"Your work, isn't it?" He guessed. "You're doing something against Hund."

Hermione was still reeling. She didn't want to lie to Ron, and she couldn't tell him the truth.

"Am I right, Hermione?"

"Ron," she said, "sit down and listen. Please."

To her surprise, he did so. Hermione started to speak when the telephone rang.

Thankful for the distraction, Hermione seized it. "Hello?" she said.

"Hermione," Joseph Stone spoke on the other end, "we need you to come in."

"What? Why?"

"Can't say, not on this line. It's important."

"But it's New Year's—"

"I know. I'm sorry, but that's precisely what _he_ counts on. We—"

"I'll come," she said briskly. "You don't need to worry."

"Thank you, Hermione," Stone said, and hung up.

"Damn," Hermione swore.

"Hermione?" Ron looked up. "What do you mean, you'll come—"

"They need me at work," she said.

"They can't do that! It's—"

"They can, and they did," she replied. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well..."

"Look, I was wrong that time—nothing important was really happening. If it turns out something similar this time, I'll storm out of there faster than you can say my name, and I'll be royally mad. But... I think it's serious."

"What's serious? You still haven't—"

"Ron, listen. I can't tell you what I'm working on. If I so much as give a hint, I can be thrown in prison for endangering the national security of the United States. So..."

"So what?" he asked.

"So... you _understand _that?"

"Yeah... hey, we could run away."

"Yeah, but, Ron, is that the life you want for Caroline? Running away, constantly moving around the world?"

"It was a joke, Hermione. I know we couldn't do that now. One year was enough for a lifetime."

"Ron, you do not mention this to anyone. _Anyone, _do you understand? If someone starts asking, you say you know _nothing_ about what I do. If someone mentions Hund in connection with me, you tell them he's read too much of the _Quibbler—_or whatever the American equivalent is. Our success depends on being secret."

However, at the same time, Hermione took a piece of paper and scribbled in capital letters, _YES_. Then she added underneath, _Burn this after I leave, Ron._ She smiled to herself. If this ever came up, a good barrister could confuse the issue sufficiently to get her off.

She gave the paper to Ron, who nodded. "I love you, Ron. Kiss Caroline for me." She grinned. "I'll see you next year."

"I love you," he said. "Good luck." Hermione Disapparated. An enormous weight just came off her shoulders. With that, she practically waltzed into the office where the Hund Hunters, as her group called themselves (though never outside) worked.

"Well, well," Lydia greeted her. "Lookie what we have here."

"Hi, Lydia, " she said. "Hello, Mr. Stone. Good afternoon, Colonel."

"If it was, none of us would be here," Hemmings retorted.

"Oh, I don't know," Padma said, coming in. "Lydia seems to live here."

"What am I going to do if I go home?" Lydia asked.

"You can't find something to do... in Las Vegas?" Captain Sherman joined in the conversation. "Why do I have trouble believing it?"  
"All right," Hemmings said. "Settle down."

Once everyone did, she nodded at Lydia. "If you recall, sometime ago, I discovered an email server from which Hund ordered the Chicago riot. Well, we've detected more messages going through it. They're planning another riot. A bigger one this time. And I also think I can physically locate that server with this new traffic. Then we can seize the computer and see what else is there."

"The data will probably be encrypted," Hermione said.

Lydia gave her an angry look. "Hermione, why don't you deal with the magic and leave computer issues to me," she said.

"Sorry," Hermione said.

"We've alerted the MLEA, and we're going to be there ourselves," Hemmings said. "Maybe we'll get one of the ringleaders of the riot to interrogate—or even Hund himself."

"Don't get your hopes up," Stone said. "Hund may not even be there."

Hemmings shrugged. "Jones will be staying here and try to find that computer. The rest of us are going there. This may need force." She paused and turned to Hermione and Padma. "Do you want guns?"

Hermione shook her head. "I don't know much about them." Padma nodded in agreement.

"Hermione, you should learn to shoot. Guns can be more useful than wands... in some cases," Stone said. "I've got my own, and I'm taking them."

"I don't have time to do that today, do I?"

"No," Hemmings said. "Unfortunately, you don't."

"Just where is this riot supposed to take place?" Hermione asked.

Hemmings looked the group over. "The least likely place you could think of," she said. "San Francisco."


	33. Episode II: chapter 21

**Chapter 21.**

_Golden Gate Bridge._

Megan laughed merrily. "New Year's is always fun," she told Harry.

"Megan?" he asked, worried. "Are you sure you haven't had too much to drink?" After seeing Megan kiss three complete strangers, two of them women, he decided that either she started drinking tonight before they got to the restaurant, or her tolerance for alcohol was practically nonexistent. At least the kisses were on the cheek. Harry hadn't drunk anything—in his memories, alcohol was associated with Sirius cooped up in Grimmauld place and his own life after Ginny's marriage, not… parties. Megan, apparently, thought being somewhat tipsy made the celebration more fun.

"Nah." She shrugged. "It's not like I need to perform complicated spells now." She kissed him fully.

"Oh yeah?" Harry asked. "What if you try to Apparate and splinch yourself?"

"It happens," Megan said. "Every New Year's, the Emergency Magical Medical Agency reports an increase in those incidents."

"Wouldn't it be embarrassing to become one of those statistics?"

"I don't worry about it." She leaned in to whisper in his ear, "I've got my completely sober and reliable method of transportation right here."

"Is that what I am?" he asked. "A method of transportation?"

She laughed again. "You're a lot more than that. I love you, you know."

"I love you," Harry said, and kissed her.

"One minute, Harry," she whispered.

"Megan…" He leaned in for another kiss.

She laughed again. "Can't you wait a bit? I don't mind, but I want to see the fireworks go off, and you're blocking my view."

Harry smiled. "Sure. You know, I never managed to follow that tradition."

"What, kissing at New Year's?"

He nodded. "First I was too young, and then, I never was _with_ anyone on New Year's."

"First time for everything, Harry." She then kissed him just as the fireworks over the bay started going off. "Happy New Year!"

He kissed her back. They were far from the only couple doing that. Harry pulled out to watch the pyrotechnic display, still hugging Megan. "It's beautiful. You're beautiful, too," he said.

Megan chuckled. "Yeah, I know. I've watched it every year since I was six, and still…"

He kissed her again. When he pulled out, Megan looked at him curiously. "Satisfied, Harry?"

"Not quite."

She frowned. "What do you mean—"

"I love you, Megan. And I plan on loving you for a long, long time." He dropped to his knee and pulled out the ring. "Megan Eleanor Shelley, will you marry me?"

For a few moments, Megan stood stiff as a statue. Then—

"Oh, God! Yes! Yes, I will!" she shouted, practically jumping at him.

"Hey, at least let me put it on," he said, taking her hand and slipping the ring onto her finger. He then began to kiss her…

Something caught his eye, and he pulled back. "Harry?" Megan asked.

He looked around. A number of people were pulling out their wands. Harry couldn't believe how many wizards were around… and how well they disguised themselves. He suddenly felt the urge to do something like that himself… yeah… pull out the wand and hex some Muggle…

"Congratulations!" someone who watched the proposal yelled at them. Harry could barely acknowledge it as he watched the events unfold.

"What the fuck?" another voice shouted.

Harry turned. A large truck going down the bridge towards San Francisco skidded and stopped across the road, blocking traffic. At the same time, a bus traveling in the opposite direction did the same, leaving only one free lane. Cars began to pile up…

"Whoa…" Megan whispered. "What are the odds—?"

_Once is accident_, Harry remembered. _Twice is coincidence… _

A van crashed into the stopped bus and haled in the remaining free lane. The bridge was completely blocked.

_Three times is enemy action._ "Megan, we'd better—"

"Get them!" a voice shouted. "Get the Muggles!" A set of red sparks flew up into the air. And then, Harry's ears ran with a horrible sound as all the windows in the stopped cars shattered at once. Harry's hand was nicked with a fragment. He was lucky. "My eye!" someone yelled.

Harry drew his wand, but before he could do anything, an enormous man lifted him off the ground. "You ain't doing nothing fancy to me, pal." The man dropped him and gave him a kick in the chest. Harry collapsed.

XXX

_Fisherman's Wharf, San Francisco, California._

_If there are wizards here, they're as good as we are at disguising themselves,_ Hermione thought. It was almost midnight, and there was still no sign that anything untoward was going on.

According to the intercepted information, the major riot would take place here, coupled with a smaller preliminary event on the Golden Gate Bridge. Joseph Stone was there now. The rest of the team... the rest of the team was stuck in a crows on Pier 39. _Well, at least I'll get to watch the fireworks,_ she thought. _Though I could have done that in Vegas._

"Looks quiet," she commented.

"It looked quiet on 9/11, too," Colonel Hemmings grumbled.

"Now there's an encouraging thought," Padma said as she approached them. "I checked the wards. You can Apparate in but not out."

"Did they do the same at Golden Gate?" Captain Sherman asked.

"No," Hermione said. "Wards are expensive, and since this would be the major—"

"Sounds like magical bureaucracy is no different from ours." Sherman grinned at her. "When you can either spend a couple of bucks to prevent a disaster, or a couple of million to deal with it afterwards, they always choose the latter."

"You know, Cap—"

"John," Captain Sherman said quietly. "We don't want anyone to know."

"John, I wish I could disagree with you. But that's exactly how the British Ministry had operated during the war. I once thought it might be different in the States."

"We only split off two hundred years ago," Hemmings said. "Not enough time to make a difference."

Hermione never learned whether that was meant to be a joke. Fireworks started going off, and everyone looked at the sky. "Happy New Year!" Padma shouted over the cheers.

"Thanks. I wish Ron was—"

"Something wrong?" Padma asked.

"I thought—never mind." _I thought I saw Ginny. That's not possible... is it?_

"Well, something's definitely happening there," Hemmings said. She pointed across the bay and said, "Look!" at the same time as several other people.

There were far more lights than there should have been coming off the Golden Gate Bridge, and some of them were too high and moved too fast to be cars of any sort. "I hope Stone's okay," Hermione said.

"Yeah, me too," Hemmings replied. "I told him he should have someone go with him... we might need to help—"

"We can't," Padma interrupted. "Wards, remember?"

"Oh, yeah..."

_Crack!_

At first, Hermione thought it was just another explosion of fireworks. Then she realized that the sound was too quiet and the lights too near for that. Those were wand sparks.

"It's—"

"_Avada Kedavra!_" someone yelled.

XXX

"_Stupefy!_" Megan yelled. The man fell. Harry stood up, shaking. "Thanks. He thought I was—"

"Yeah, it's a mess. _Stupefy!_ I think—"

"_Stupefy!_" Harry shouted as another person tried to attack them.

"What?" he asked, trying to cover Megan's back. By now, images of dragons, snakes, and monsters Harry had never seen flew through the air, periodically swooping down and causing people to panic. Fires burned where they shouldn't have, and new ones appeared constantly. One nearly singed Harry and Megan before they jumped out of the way.

Harry saw several wizarding duels taking place. "What—"

"I think there were some undercover Aurors from the MLEA here," Megan said. "They're trying to contain—"

Megan's voice was cut off. Harry turned and saw here hanging upside down by her foot. "Thanks for teaching me that spell, Harry," Ginny said. And then, she waved her wand, moved the helplessly hovering Megan over the bridge railing… and dropped her.

Harry rushed to get her back. "_Expelli—_" Ginny began.

"_Protego!_" Harry shouted, blocking Ginny's spell. "_Stu—_"

The spell died in his mouth. Harry didn't know how it was possible, but he absolutely heard the splash at the bottom. Megan was gone.

Ginny Disapparated before he could finish the incantation.

Harry leaned over the railing, looking at the spot where Megan had died. For a moment, he had the urge to follow her, end it all… He started climbing.

"Enjoying the view, Mr. Potter?"

Harry turned and saw Alan Hund standing ten feet away from him, completely calm amidst the chaos that engulfed the bridge.

Something in Harry snapped, and his wand almost aimed itself at Hund. "_Avada Kedavra!_" he yelled.

Hund Disapparated, and the green bolt set a car on fire. "Now, Mr. Potter—" Hund said from behind him.

"_Avada Kedavra!_" Harry yelled again. Hund dodged, and the spell tore one of the vertical cables of the bridge.

"If you keep this up, you'll hit someone innocent, Mr. Potter," Hund told him.

"As if you care! What— _Avada Kedavra!_" Harry shouted. He had hoped to distract Hund with the reply. No such luck. The man Disapparated out of the spell's way again.

"In case you didn't know, that curse is as illegal in America as it is in Britain," Hund said. "What—"

"_Avada Kedavra!_" This attack had no more success than the previous ones. Harry turned to find him again.

"As I was saying, what happened to your respect for the law, Mr. Potter? Although, technically, you haven't broken any laws yet."

"_Ava_— What?" Harry was too shocked to by what he just heard to finish.

"You have to hit me to actually break the law," Hund explained. "You—"

"_Crucio!_" Harry shouted. This time, Hund took out his wand and turned the curse away.

"Now you have broken the law, Mr. Potter."

"What did she do to you?!" Harry screamed. "Why did you— _Avada Kedavra!_"

Hund Disapparated out of the way again. "To me? Nothing. Mrs. Malfoy, on the other hand…"

"Are you saying you didn't approve of—?"

"I didn't order Mrs. Malfoy to kill her. She acted on her own initiative."

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

Having avoided the spell yet again, Hund looked around. "I'd love to continue," he said, "but I think we've overstayed our welcome here." He vanished, and this time, did not reappear.

Wizards were Apparating in amongst the rioters and firing Stunners. Harry realized they were Aurors from the MLEA. He tried to Apparate, and couldn't. _They must have set up wards,_ he realized. _One way wards, for keeping people in. Hund probably used a Portkey._

"_Protego!_" Harry blocked a Stunner sent at him. The Auror—a woman—sent another one, which he avoided. "Dick, Jon!" she shouted before Harry sent a barrage of spells at her, finally hitting her in the stomach with his own Stunner.

Two men, wands raised, attacked him. Harry kept blocking their spells, but then, he saw three more Aurors approaching. They were going to try to surround him.

He knew he couldn't afford to be taken by the MLEA. They wouldn't buy "James Evans," and chances were, he'd be back in Azkaban before the week was over. And he had to kill Hund first.

Harry fired a spell and released a cloud of thick smoke from his wand. Using that as cover, he climbed onto the bridge railing and jumped off, transforming into a black hawk. He flapped his wings and began to rise.

Turning, he flew over the five Aurors who stood, confused, around the place where he'd been, and then glided towards the city.

The only reason he was able to see where he was going was that, as a hawk, he couldn't cry. _I don't even have a body to bury,_ he thought. _You should never have gotten involved with me, Megan. I love you… _

XXX

By the time Hermione had turned, the person who attacked was gone. And the riot had started. Hermione ducked as an image of a dragon swooped down on the crowd, spewing flame. Fires started in its wake. _Good timing,_ Hermione suddenly thought.

"He got Larry!" Sergeant Bloomberg shouted.

"What?" Hermione rushed over. Sergeant Earhart lay on the ground, eyes open, and unmistakably dead. Hermione shuddered.

"Get them!"

"_Protego!_" Hermione yelled instinctively. She then recoiled at the force of spells impacting on her shield. Fires were popping up all around her, and she already had trouble breathing from smoke.

"Come on!" she shouted at Bloomberg, motioning at the rest of their group, some fifty feet away, also trying to protect themselves from magical bombardment.

"We can't leave—"

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Hermione shouted, exasperated. "_Levicorpus!_" Earhart's body rose. "Run! I'll cover you!"

Hermione released a stream of thick smoke from her wand, blocking the view of the enemies. Under this cover, she and Sergeant Earhart ran up to Padma and the others. Hermione immediately joined her magical shield to Padma's. "Thanks," the other witch said. "I don't think I can—"

Something flew past her and the attacking wizards stumbled. One of them had a knife lodged in his shoulder. "Now!" Captain Sherman ordered, and Hermione realized it was him who threw that knife.

All three Delta Force soldiers—and Hemmings, as well—took out their submachine guns and opened fire. The attackers dropped.

"That'll—" Bloomberg began, but then stopped, as the wizards threw up shields and bullets stopped in mid-air. "Oh, shi—"

"_Protego!_" Padma and Hermione shouted, but not before an attacker lifted his wand and yelled, "_Expelliarmus!_" Hemmings' submachine gun was ripped out of her hands and flew away.

"Sorry about that!" Hermione shouted. Fortunately, the three men were still armed, and still shooting.

Hemming grunted, took out her pistol, and fired. Hermione thought she'd seen the person who took away her gun fall. She was too busy to be sure, though.

"What the—"

Something that looked like an anvil flew through the air at them. The anvil hit Sergeant Bloomberg and hurled him along. Before Bloomberg could even yell, he was over the railing and, along with the anvil, dropped into the bay.

_Splash!_ Captain Sherman started turning, but Padma was way ahead of him as she leaped up onto the railing, jumped off it, cast the Bubble-head Charm on herself in mid-air, and vanished underwater.

Hermione put as much strength into her Shield Charm as she could. She now had to do the work of two people... against who only knew how many wizards. And if that wasn't enough...

"We're not exactly covered in ammunition here," Captain Sherman said.

"Where's the MLEA?!" Hemmings demanded, as if Hermione was personally responsible for them.

Hermione didn't respond. She fired what seemed like more spells than she ever had in her life, and none of them appeared to do much good.

"We've got to get away," Sherman said.

"How? That crowd is in our way!" Hemmings pointed at the attackers.

Hermione got an idea. "So we escape by water," she said. "Where's the nearest boat?"

"At the side dock—"

Hermione raised her wand and several pier boards popped themselves off their support and stood up between them and the attackers. The ends of the boards lit themselves on fire. "Well, run!" Hermione shouted, seeing wizards were already dismantling the barrier.

Considering that Sherman and Anderson carried Earhart's body, they ran very fast, and quickly piled into the small motorboat. "Now, let's hotwire—"

"No need." Hermione waved her wand, and the motor started. "And no time," she added, as the wizards appeared on the dock.

"Well, you're good for something," Anderson said. Sherman prepared to drive the boat away.

Hermione threw up a shield. "Get us out of here!"

Sherman nodded, and started the propeller. They sped off.

Anderson took several shots at the attackers. Hermione didn't know if he hit anyone. And to her own surprise, she realized she didn't care.


	34. Episode II: chapter 22

**Chapter 22.**

After flying over the city several times, Harry decided to get back to his apartment. Megan's body hasn't washed up on any beach, the riot ended, and Hund was nowhere to be seen. He'd have to face Megan's parents tomorrow. He shuddered in his hawk body.

He landed in a secluded location near his residence complex and transformed, then headed into the building. One thing he intended to do now was get drunk.

"Mr. James Evans?" a voice asked out of the darkness.

Harry got his wand ready. "Yes?" he said.

"You're under arrest, Mr. Evans." A police officer appeared and handcuffed him before Harry could say anything. "You're a suspect in a murder case."

"What?" Harry was too shocked. _Murder?_

"You have the right to remain silent, Mr. Evans." The cop led him back downstairs towards a waiting car. Unable to reach his wand, Harry could do nothing as he was driven to the station and locked up.

Tired from the day, the duel with Hund, and flying, Harry stretched out on the cot in the cell. The murder charges weren't likely to stick, since he was innocent. Then he laughed in spite of what happened. The last time he was thrown in prison, he'd been innocent, too.

He fell asleep soon afterwards.

XXX

Once they were out of range of the attackers, Sherman slowed down. "We don't have much fuel," he said. "Where—"

"Look!" Hemmings said. "There's someone in the water."

Sherman headed where she pointed. Hermione and Anderson both held weapons at the ready.

It was Padma, and she was holding on to Sergeant Bloomberg's body. They pulled her in, and Hermione quickly cast a Drying Charm. "Is—"

"He's dead," Padma whispered. "He died before I got there. I think it happened so quick that he didn't have time to catch a breath before he plunged."

"How—"

"Gluing Charm on the anvil. I broke it, and got him to the surface." Padma shook her head. "Maybe if we got him to a Healer immediately..."

"You couldn't—" Anderson demanded angrily.

""We're still within the wards the MLEA set up," Padma said.

"Yeah. You people are real slick," Anderson said.

"Excuse me?" Hermione looked at him. "Just what are you implying—"

"He's implying nothing," Hemmings said. "Are you, Sergeant?"

For a moment, Hermione was afraid Anderson would raise his gun and shoot Hemmings.

"No, ma'am," Anderson said.

"Good. It's this sort of thinking that led to the riot in the first place. Padma and Hermione did everything they could—"

"Wasn't enough, was it? Larry and Sean are—"

"Larry would be just as dead if he was a wizard—he was hit with a Killing Curse. Sean might be as well, if he didn't hold on to his wand, when hit with that—"

"So it's their fault, right?! Well—"

"Stop. Now." Captain Sherman stopped the boat and rose. "Hermione and Padma had _nothing_ to do with Larry and Sean's deaths. _Nothing._"

"Sir, what did we accomplish except getting two good men—"

"What did we accomplish?" Sherman asked. "We've distracted God knows how many of them from participating in their original plan. We've stopped God knows how many civilians from being terrorized. And we probably saved more people in the long run because some of them won't be so eager to do this again, knowing they could be shot at." He paused, and cut Anderson off when the sergeant started to speak. "Now, if you say that Larry and Sean's lives were too high a price for that, I agree, but there's nothing we can do about it. And we _don't _take it out on those who fought alongside us, understand?"

"Yes, _sir_," Anderson replied.

"If you'd like a transfer to another unit, we can discuss that when we get back to Fifty-One. I'd rather not have you do that, but I will not stand in the way. And this is the last we're going to have of this debate. Unless you have something to say directly bearing on the mission, keep silent. That goes for all three of you."

"Yes, sir," Anderson said again. Padma and Hermione nodded. She knew what it was like to lose a comrade in arms, the pain, the disbelief, the anger that followed. No matter how much she personally disliked Captain Sherman's order, she knew it was the only thing he could do to keep the team under control.

"I do have a suggestion," Hermione said.

"What?" Hemmings demanded.

"Head for Alcatraz. There's a Portkey station there."

"How do—"

"Stone told me once. Besides, the rioters are still there." She pointed back towards the city. "If we appear on the waterfront, we might get caught in again."

"All right," Sherman said, turning the boat and heading for the small island.

"Why there?" Hemmings asked curiously.

"Well, Stone said it was a place no one would go to on purpose."

"You—" Sherman began, but then was interrupted by Padma's yell.

"Stop!" she shouted.

Sherman did. "What—"

"There," Padma said.

Not ten feet from them floated a body. They approached and pulled it out.

It was a young black woman—that was all they could really tell, since she was covered in bruises and blood as to be unrecognizable. Not a single feature remained on her puffy, bloody face. Padma shuddered. One of her hands was firmly closed, clutching a wand. A ring with a large diamond sparkled on the other.

"Damn. What do we do with her?" Hemmings asked. "Any clue who she might be?"

"Who knows?" Hermione shrugged. "She sure wasn't carrying her documents in that dress, and we've got nothing else."

"The advantage of pockets over purses," Sherman said. The three women glared at him.

"You know, the ratio of dead to living in this boat is getting uncomfortable," Padma said.

"If her wand came from a registered wandmaker, the Department of Magic might have a record. When we get to Alcatraz, we can inform the MLEA."

"What happened to her?" Anderson asked as they resumed their trip. "I don't know any weapon that does that, and I don't think that magic like this—"

"It's not magic," Hermione said. "My guess is, she fell of the Golden Gate Bridge."

"Why'd you—"

"It's the only nearby place high enough."

"Fell?" Hemmings asked.

"Fell, jumped, or was thrown. Since we don't know what really went on there, we can only guess which. Speaking of which, I'm worried about Stone. If—"

As if on cue, Stone's voice boomed from the island they were approaching. "Attention, boat! Stop right there."

"Do it," Hermione said. She then there up red sparks twice, and then green ones.

The countersign—two sets of blue sparks, followed by green—was her reply. "All right," she said.

They approached the shore, where Stone, with a lit wand wand, waited for them. "Is everyone—" Then he saw the bodies. "What happened?"

They filled him in as they headed to the station. "I'll have someone from the MLEA pick her up and try to ID her. Looks like I was luckier than you, but not by much."

"Huh?" Hemmings asked. "What do you mean—"

"The bridge riot was the smaller one, right?" Well there were fewer people there, that much was true. But Hund himself showed up."

"Did—"

"If I got him, I wouldn't be here. No, I was too busy dealing with a maniac who was trying to kill me. The MLEA is dealing with prisoners now, but I don't think he's among them. We ought to get back."

Hemmings nodded. Stone tapped a rock with his wand, and it rolled away, revealing a passage. They entered into a brightly lit hallway.

A young wizard rushed up to them. "What's going on here? They look like Muggles—"

Stone flashed his MLEA badge. "We need a Portkey to Vegas. Now! And while you're at it, I have to make a Floo call."

"Uhm, yes, sir," the wizard said. "Take fireplace four."

They followed Stone, who, upon finding the assigned fireplace, took a handful of Floo powder from a nearby bag, threw it into the flames, stuck his head in, and yelled, "Bob Severs!"

Less than a minute later, he stood up. "Stand back," he said, and a fat wizard with the MLEA badge on his chest popped out.

"They wouldn't send me out into the field," he said. "So this is our body." He turned to Hermione. "You say you found her in the bay?"

Hermione nodded. "We think she fell—"

"We'll determine what killed her," Bob Severs interrupted. "I'll say this, no one would have expected this. Hund! My wife scares our children with Hund when they refuse to go to bed on time. A bogeyman, we all thought. And then... this. All over—"

"We have to go," Stone said. "Thanks. Send me a report, will you? Who she is, what happened, that sort of thing."

"No problem, Joe. Good luck." Bob Severs took the dead woman's body and vanished into the fireplace.

"Let's go," Stone said, holding out a Portkey. "Ready?" Hermione nodded, and held onto the large baton. Then, they were taken up by the swirl.

"I'll never get used to them," Padma said as they landed on the floor of a very similar hall—the Las Vegas Portkey Station.

Stone picked up the two bodies, Hermione took Hemmings, and Padma grabbed Sergeant Anderson's hand. "Let's go," Stone said again, and Apparated. The others followed.

Lydia was waiting for them. "You're back!" she shouted. "What happened? Oh, no—"

"Bloomberg and Earhart got killed," Sherman said.

"Fuck!" Lydia said. "We were—"

"Explain yourself, Jones," Hemmings said.

"Murphy's law in action," Lydia replied. "You want the good news first?"

"There is good news?"

"I located their server. It's in a Department of Magic building—that's why I was having trouble. The regional office of the Department of Magic in Phoenix. We can go there right—"

"What's the bad news?"

"We were conned. We were played for fools by Hund. We're still being played for fools by Hund. We lost two men because we were played for fools by Hund. And we let Hund play us for fools. That's the bad news."

XXX

Harry woke up when someone touched his shoulder. "Harry..." a familiar voice whispered.

He stirred and opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was amass of red hair. _Who'd—_ he reached for his glasses. Ginny came into focus.

"Hello—"

"You!" Harry grabbed her, threw her on the floor, and jumped at her, reaching for her neck.

"Harry, are you mad?! Let—"

"Why? Why'd you kill Megan? Are you that jealous?"

"I never—"

"Don't lie!" He closed his hands around her throat and began to squeeze. "How long have you worked for Hund? How long since you sold out? Yaaaow!"

Ginny had kneed him in the groin and broke free. She got her wand out. "I came to get you out of here," she said.

"And take me straight to Hund? No thanks."

"I've never worked for Alan Hund. I have not killed Megan."

"Oh, yeah, I've been hallucinating this whole time. I've tried to kill Hund—ask him if you don't believe me. I'll kill you as soon as I get my wand back."

"Take it!" She tossed the wand at him. Harry caught it. "_Stupefy!_" Ginny shouted. "I'm getting you out of here, Harry. Whatever you think of me."


	35. episode II: chapter 23

**Chapter 23.**

"What happened?" Hemmings demanded.  
"We thought San Francisco would be the only riot, right? That's the only place the messages mentioned."  
"It wasn't?"  
"New York. Philadelphia. Chicago—again. Dallas. Phoenix. Denver. Seattle. Los Angeles. And those are the big ones."  
"Shit," Stone said. "I better talk to the MLEA. We need the details—as much as we can get." He Disapparated.  
"I don't like this," Hemmings said.  
"How—"  
"We saw what we wanted to see," Lydia said. "They obviously knew that we knew about their server."  
"How?"  
"I don't know. Maybe if we get at that server—"  
Hemmings nodded and looked at Hermione and Padma. "Get to Phoenix and seize the computer."  
"How—"  
"Break in and steal. We'll deal with legalities later."  
"Right," Padma said. Hermione picked up a coffee cup from the table. "_Portus_," she said. "Once we find it, we'll simply teleport it here," she said. "If we have to run from their security—"  
"Not likely, considering all the people they pulled to deal with the riots," Lydia said. "But it's probably a good idea. Good luck."  
Hermione and Padma Apparated back to the Portkey station. Hermione showed her MLEA ID she had used on undercover missions. "Have you people gone crazy?" the operator asked them. "This—"  
"The world's gone crazy, not us," Hermione said.  
"Sorry—where to?"  
"Phoenix," Padma said. "A two-way one."  
"Coming right up, ma'am." The wizard handed her a black baton. "Good luck—you're liable to need it."  
"Thank you," Hermione said as she activated the Portkey.  
They appeared in yet another station. "Have they had the same person design all of them? One can get confused," Padma said.  
"Probably," Hermione answered. "Well, we now need to get to the sixth floor down.  
"Good thing it's the same building," Padma said.  
"Yeah—although, the riot should have subsided by now. I think we got hit with the worst of it in San Francisco."  
"We don't know how bad it was here," Padma countered. "But there's one good thing about it—we're not likely to be seen by many people. Either they're sleeping at home, like all normal people at this time do, or they've been called out into the field."  
Hermione nodded. "After what we've been through, I don't mind an easy—"  
"Well, this is a surprise," a familiar voice said. Hermione turned and saw Joseph Stone.  
"What're you doing here?" Padma asked.  
"I wanted to get some info on the riot from people I know here. Hund's bound to have lieutenants, and I want to know if they recognized anyone in particular. I wouldn't expect something like this to happen in Phoenix, and whoever planned it knows the city well. What about you?"  
"You heard Lydia," Hermione said. "We're here to get the computer."  
"Good luck," Stone said. "You know where it is?"  
Hermione took out a map Lydia provided them. "Around here," she said.  
"I'm not going to hold you up, then," Stone said. "I need to see a couple more people."  
"Thanks," Padma said.  
"Right here." Hermione pointed to a door with a large number 6068 on it. "If the map Lydia put together entirely from network data is correct, that is."  
"What, you don't trust Lydia?"  
"It's not that, it's—"  
"The door is locked. _Alohomora_!"  
"In a building full of wizards, using such a lock is stupid," Hermione commented.  
"Oh yeah?" Padma asked. "What about the second door?"  
This door was very different from the first. It was made of metal, and had no keyhole—only a small number pad. "Great," Hermione said. "We'll need the code—"  
"Lydia did that," Padma replied. She turned the map over and pointed to four handwritten numbers on it. 4863. "There you go," she said, and punched in the numbers. The door opened.  
It was certainly not the sort of room one would expect to find in a building operated by a magical government. It was well-lit, almost empty, and smelled strongly of electricity. The entire back wall was covered with what looked like stacks of black boxes with blinking lights. "There it is," Hermione said. "Now all we need—"

"That's the computer?" Padma asked. "It—"

"It's a big server machine," Hermione explained. "It's more powerful, and can store a lot more." She took out the Portkey they carried and attached it to one of the front panels. "Unplug it, Padma."

"Padma did so, and the blinking lights went out. Hermione activated the Portkey and the entire complex vanished.

"Well, that's it," she said. "Let's—"

"Hey, what're you—"

"_Stupefy!_" Padma fired a spell through the doorway. "You were saying?"

"Hold on!" Hermione took out the Portkey they got at Las Vegas and activated it. It took them away just as she spotted someone else running towards them, wand raised.

As soon as they landed at the Portkey station, they both Apparated back to Area 51. "I hope that'll be the last of it for—" The office they usually used was much emptier than usual.

"Where's everyone?" Hermione wondered.

"I convinced them they needed sleep," Lydia said. "We can't do anything until we have the information, either from Stone's contacts or from—" She pointed at the black machine, and started opening one of the panels with a screwdriver.

"By the way, we ran into Stone in Phoenix," Hermione said.

Lydia looked up. "Did you, now? What did he say he was doing?"

"Trying to figure out who exactly orchestrated that riot," Padma said. "Why? You don't—"

"You two need sleep as well," Lydia interrupted her.

"And you don't?" Padma demanded.

"I'm needed right now. You aren't. I'll be done and _get_ sleep faster if you don't stand around me and nag." She glared at them.

Hermione shrugged. "All right," she said.

"Good luck," Padma said, and left with Hermione.

"Ron's got to be worried sick by now. I'll see you tomorrow, Padma." She Apparated home.

Dawn was approaching. The first day of the new year… Hermione's stomach rumbled. "Well, I haven't eaten since last year," she told herself, and headed for the fridge.

"Hermione?" Ron asked, coming from upstairs.

XXX

Harry came into senses feeling warm and comfortable. He yawned and opened his eyes. A cozy room came into focus, with a fireplace, several plush chairs, and a small glass table. His wand lay on it. Harry picked it up and put it away.

A door opened and a tall man entered. Harry's wand was out and aimed at him before he could think. "You—" And then he froze, since the man in front of him, while he resembled Hund, had blond rather than brown hair and bright blue eyes. "You're—"

"We haven't met, Mr. Potter," the man said, and Harry shook. The voice rasped more than Hund's, but the man spoke in a very similar manner. "Although, judging by your reaction, I see you have made acquaintance of my brother."

"Brother?" Harry asked.

"I should introduce myself," the man said and extended his hand. "Samuel. Samuel Hund."

"Harry Potter." Harry shook the hand.

Samuel Hund sat down in a chair across for him. "I think it's time we get to business. Mr. Potter, do you know what Polyjuice Potion is?"

"Of course," Harry replied. "I've used it."

"I'd suggest you think about what it does before you take any rash actions," he said. Before Harry could think about that, Samuel Hund took out something Harry didn't recognize, and spoke into it, "Come in."

Through the door walked... Ginny. Harry immediately reached for his wand. "I'll—"

"Remember what I told you, Mr. Potter?" Samuel Hund boomed.

_Polyjuice Potion_. "That... that wasn't Ginny?" He sank back into his chair.

"Took you long enough," Ginny said, taking her own seat. "How could you believe that of me, Harry? How—"

"I don't know what to believe anymore," Harry admitted. "And face it, after that letter you gave me—"

"Yes, Miss Weasley told me. The letter was a trap from my brother, correct?"

Harry nodded. Something came to him. "Where are we?"

"Cincinnati Magical Academy," Samuel Hund said.

"Cincinnati— Ginny, weren't you supposed to—"

"I did exactly what I was supposed to. I'm still doing it—although I'm doing a few other things... like getting you out of prison, and nearly getting killed for the trouble."

"I'm sorry... I thought—"

"I know what you thought, you told me. I don't—"

"You will settle this later," Samuel Hund said. "There's something else you ought to know—there was a staff party last night, and Miss Weasley was there. The party lasted till half past three. At least twenty people will confirm that Miss Weasley had not left for any significant time."

"What—" And then Harry realized what Hund was talking about. The time difference between Cincinnati and San Francisco was three hours. And that meant..."

"How did she know I taught you _Levicorpus_?" Harry asked.

"Hund—Alan Hund, that is—used Legilimency on me several times," Ginny said. "I don't know how much he knows—I resisted, and I could throw him out—but that's not exactly an important secret, is it?"

"Merlin," Harry said. "I've screwed up—"

"My brother has a poor sense of timing," Samuel Hund said. "Does this look familiar?" He handed Harry a folder. Opening it, Harry saw photos of him, Hund, and Ginny—or Ginny look-alike—in that office in Chicago where his first conversation with Hund took place.

"Where did—"

"Principal Wilson got them the next day. I think Hund—Aland Hund—didn't want me to work here," Ginny said.

"With good reason," Samuel Hund replied. "Although, he probably doesn't suspect just how good."

"Wait—Ginny, you still lied to me. You told me you never worked for Hund—"

"I said I never worked for _Alan_ Hund—unless you count inadvertently giving you that letter."

Samuel Hund nodded. "Unfortunately for my brother, the photos have a time stamp on them. And Principal Wilson remembered that at the time represented by these photos, Miss Weasley was with him."

"Why isn't he here?" Harry asked.

"He is," Samuel Hund said. "You see, _I_ am Principal Wilson."

"What?!"

"That's what Miss Weasley said when I told her. It's quite simple—all it takes is a potion my brother and I invented. It's very similar to Polyjuice, but it doesn't require the person looking like the one you're changing into to really exist."

"Invented by—you and your brother—"

"A long, long time ago," Samuel Hund said. "Before... before everything."

"Hund—your brother doesn't know?"

"My brother thinks I'm dead. I'm sorry to say, he uses me as an excuse for some of his actions."

"I don't—"

"Mr. Potter, what have you learned about Alan from my esteemed colleague at Salem? About _him_, I mean—not what he can do."

"Clarence? Well... not much. We did focus mostly on, as you said, what he can do."

"What she taught him," Samuel Hund said. "I see. So Diana is still in the dark... and that means everyone else is, as well."

"What? I still don't—"

"Diana can be too curious for her own good. My brother, of course, told her what he knew about my fate... but once he revealed himself, I think she felt guilty. She decided to bring him down, and since she thought everything he told her was a lie—including the story of my supposed death—that's where she started. She tried to find me. She got awfully close."

Harry opened him mouth. Diana Clarence never told him about that—she never even mentioned that Hund had a brother. At least now, her sudden acceptance of him made sense.

Harry noticed that Ginny was as surprised as he was, which meant this was something she hasn't heard before. It made him curious, although he still shuddered every time he looked at her. _Megan..._

"We—the Hunds, that is—were a rather traditional family," Hund began. "Almost all of us stayed among wizards all their lives. The Hunds weren't quite the pureblood fanatics you know, but they came close. Then, my father fell in love and married a Muggle-born woman.

"Alan and I did not grow up, like many wizards do, ignorant of the Muggle world. We knew it very well, and, if the accounts I've heard about my brother are correct, still do."

Harry already knew that Hund—the other Hund, he reminded himself—was familiar with technology. "I know—"

"My brother, though, was fascinated by Dark magic. Oh, we both experimented as teenagers—but Alan did more of it. He also spent a lot of time with Uncle Mark, who did necromantic research for a living. Alan was sixteen when Uncle Mark died. I don't think he ever recovered from that.

"Now, while I am certain you haven't, I still must ask: have you heard of something called Unit 215?"  
"No," Harry said. Ginny also shook her head.

"It was an experimental attempt to bring our worlds closer together. You can judge its success by the current state of things, although it was a rather small effort. The U.S. Muggle government asked the Department of Magic to form a volunteer unit that would use magic to assist the U.S. military. It would be kept secret at first, of course." Hund laughed. "Well, it never got past the 'at first'.

"I found out about it because my mother worked in the Office of Political Muggle Relations," Samuel Hund said. "I just turned eighteen, I didn't really have plans, I knew I didn't want to work in the Department of Magic, or enter an apprenticeship. So... I volunteered."

"What happened?"

"Well... it was 1965," Hund said. "What do you think happened? We got sent to Vietnam."

XXX

"Good morning, Ron," she said. "Is Caroline—"

"She's asleep," Ron said. "Are you—"

"Ron, I don't need—"

"I was worried, Hermione. With all those riots—"

Hermione stopped and looked at him… and immediately regretted it. She already gave away too much. Ron wasn't stupid, he'd figure—

And he did. His eyebrows rose. "You haven't... you didn't… you weren't—"

Hermione stood silently. Ron strode over. "Where?" he asked hoarsely.

"San Francisco," she said, feeling numb.

"The worst one." And then, he put his harms around her. "Oh, Hermione."

She looked up and kissed him. "Ron, I'm starving," she said. "Can you let me go so I can—"

"I'll fix you something, Ron said. "Just… take it easy."

"Thanks, Ron." She sat down. "I—never mind."

"Don't you think we'll ever get a quiet life?" Ron asked.

"I don't know, Ron. I just don't know. It isn't happening now, that's for sure."

"Ron put the food on a plate and walked over. "_Are _you all right?"

"I'll be, once I eat and get some sleep," she lied. She couldn't tell him about the two dead soldiers—he'd freak out even more than he already was. Instead, she kissed him again. "I love you."

"I know that. Why—"

"Just making sure you do. You _are_ a forgetful prat, after all."

"I am not! You—"

Hermione kissed him again. "I'm kidding… I'd rather not think about what's going on at work now."

Thankfully, Ron simply nodded and didn't ask her why not. She wouldn't be able to answer him.


	36. Episode II: chapter 24

**Chapter 24.**

The phone rang. Hermione yawned, sat on her bed, and picked it up. "Hello?"  
"Hermione," Lydia said. "You've got to come—"

"What? I just got home, I'm—"

"If you want it to be an order from Colonel Hemmings, I can arrange that," Lydia retorted. "We've got an emergency."

"I'll be there." Hermione hung up. _Damn_.

She got dressed and headed downstairs. "Hermione?" Ron asked. "What—"

"I've got to go," she said. "Lydia says it's an emergency there."  
"I don't like the sound of that."

"And you think I do? That's why I'm going."

"I won't talk you out of it, will I?"

"No, you won't."

"Just… be careful. If I lose—"

"Hush. I'll be back in to time."

"I love you."

She kissed him. "I love you, too." Then she Disapparated.

Fifty-One appeared no different than usual… until she walked into Lydia's office. "When _was_ the last time you slept?" Hermione asked her. Pieces of paper were strewn about the normally neat office, about twenty empty coffee cups stood on the table, the computers' cases were mostly open, with cables showing, all connected to the large server they stole from the Phoenix offices, and Lydia herself looked… well, it was enough to say that at the moment, Hermione's hair was the neater of the two.

"Happy New Year to you, too," she said. "Take a look at this."

Hermione looked at the laptop screen. She scrolled down… and opened her mouth. "Lydia?"

"It's no mistake," she assured her.

Padma walked in. "What's going on—Lydia, are you all right?"

"Never mind that." Lydia thrusted the laptop towards her.

"Please tell me it doesn't mean what I think it means," Hermione said.

Padma looked at her. "I could, if I felt like lying. Are you—"

"Positive," Lydia said.

"The Colonel—"

"I called her. She should—"

"I should what?" Hemmings asked. "You better have had a damn good reason for waking me, Jones, or—"

Lydia showed her the laptop. Hemmings looked at the screen, and Hermione knew exactly when she reached the critical piece of information. As if hit, Hemmings reeled back. "No…"

"I'm afraid so," Lydia replied.

Hemmings took her military radio out of her belt. "Captain Sherman," she said. "Meet us at secure area 2C. Full gear. Hemmings out."

She looked at Padma and Hermione. "Do you want body armor?"

"No. I need freedom of movement," Padma said.

"She's the Auror," Hermione agreed. "I doubt he'll use a gun against us, anyway."

"It may do some good," Hemmings said. "But it's your choice. Wait for me."

When she left, Padma looked at Hermione. "You okay?"

"How did we all get—"

"It's okay—well, no it isn't," Lydia said. "But we never really thought about it, did we?"

"No clues! Not one until now. You should get a medal, Lydia."

"I will take successfully doing our job, thank you. And it's you who have the hard part of it." She shook her head. "Good luck. You're gonna _really _need it this time."

"Thanks. You—"

"Everyone ready?" Hemmings asked. Hermione blinked. Their commander looked very different in a full BDU, helmet, and an M-4 carbine slung over her shoulder. "What?" she asked as the other women looked at her. "I haven't forgotten my basic training. If one of you can Apparate me—"

Padma volunteered to do so. Hermione was grateful. She didn't remember the last time she worried so much. Maybe there wasn't one.

XXX

"What did you do?"

"Various things," Hund replied. "Special operations, infiltration—sometimes we were called upon to treat wounds Muggle medicine wouldn't be able to handle. In the end, we were no different than the Muggle soldiers we served alongside with. I stayed in Vietnam for seven years. I could have continued—I've heard the CIA ran something along similar lines for several years after the war. But I didn't, and I didn't because I wanted to be near my family—both to spend time with them, and to protect them from Alan."

"He threatened?"

"I was afraid. To this day, I can't say whether I was more afraid in Vietnam, where we were getting shot at, or when I came home on leave, to find that my brother had invented some new Dark spell and was eager to test it on someone—which made me wonder whether he'd done such "testing" when I was away. Then there was an incident with his wife."

"Wife? He married—"

"He did. Right out of school. And then, he threw her out on the streets for giving birth to a Squib."

"But you can't determine if a newborn is a Squib," Ginny protested. "It usually happens when—"

"Alan created a potion that he claimed would be a foolproof test of whether a person is a Squib. He said his daughter tested positive."

"He trusted—"

"Alan trusts himself and his knowledge—always did. In this instance, I believe him—that the potion indicated the child was a squib. Whether the potion actually worked the way he claimed... I can't say. He never told me how to make it. I also don't know what happened to his wife and daughter—I offered help, but you can imagine that once he threw Rebecca out, she didn't want anything to do with our family.

"It wasn't the best of times, certainly. Alan sinking deeper into the Dark Arts, followed by both our parents dying at home, and in Vietnam, we had to do our job, knowing we weren't going to win single-handedly—knowing we weren't going to win at all. On my last leave, Alan said he'd make his life's work to overthrow the U.S. Muggle government, and wanted to enlist me in the endeavor—saying the connections I made while working for the military will be very useful in that. And that's when we broke, and turned our wands on each other. He said that when he takes over, he'll remember who helped him—and who didn't. And yes, I took that as a threat against me and my family.

"But why—"

"How would I hide from him? I knew I couldn't, not really. He knew me too well. The only way to do it was to make sure he wasn't looking for me. He'd vanished somewhere—which by then, wasn't enough to raise my suspicions, since it happened before. So, I told my superiors about this, and what I wanted done. The next time I went to Vietnam, they arranged an accident. Officially, Samuel Hund was killed in an ambush by the NVA in October of 1972.

"I took on my new identity as Cade Wilson. Until this year, I connected to my old life only once. In 1975, I sneaked into Saigon to watch it fall. I saw Alan working aiding the Communists."

"What? He—"

"I don't know if he did it for a reason, or simply for his ego. You see, one of the things he enjoys most is lying by telling the truth."

"I think I've experienced that," Harry said.

"I'm sure you did. He'd just love to talk about this. He'd say that he, like me, fought in the Vietnam War—and conveniently omit on which side."

"That sounds like him, all right."

"Well, that's where he's coming from. Now, I'm going to tell you something else. Four months ago, I've had a visitor whom you're both familiar with. A certain Hermione Granger."

"It's Granger-Weasley now," Harry said. "Why'd—"

"So she did marry your brother," Hund said, looking at Ginny. "Anyway, she came with a fake identity, claiming to be from the MLEA investigating the attack on the school. But I recognized her from the photo the _Daily Prophet_ printed shortly after the defeat of Voldemort. And even if I hadn't, I knew their—her and her companions'—story was a sham. Two of them were Muggles, one either military or ex-military. She's working for some other organization, and I'd guess their main target is my brother."

"You didn't tell her—"

"That he _is_ my brother? No. First of all, I couldn't—there were too many people around. Second, I wasn't going to. Whatever Hermione works for, it's part of the government—magical or Muggle. And that means other people besides them know what's going on—which means that Alan will be able to find out whatever they know.

"And now, Mr. Potter, I'm going to make you an offer. It'll be suspicious if you just start coming around here, but I've been handling Defense Against the Dark Arts classes myself since Mrs. Patrick got killed, since no one applied for the job. How'd you like to take the lower years?"

"A teacher—me—but—"

"Look, right now, Alan believes you're in a Muggle prison. He'll find out that you _aren't_ quickly, but that doesn't translate into quickly finding out where you _are_. He'll suspect Salem, but Diana probably put in some protections specifically against him, and it'll take him awhile to thwart them—and Diana will know."

"You think he _will_ get into Salem eventually?"

"I _know_ he will if he is determined to. Building defenses isn't enough, you need people. If he does make that attempt, it'll come down to him against Diana."

"And you don't—"

"Diana Clarence is brilliant. She knows more magic than I ever will. But she is not as smart as she thinks she is, and Alan knows that. So in that contest, Diana is going to lose."

Harry didn't know what to say, to either the offer of the teaching position or to the assessment of Diana Clarence. "How are we going to keep Hund—Alan—from finding out by having me teach here? You know schools, when students learn Harry Potter is teaching—"

"Do you think I'm stupid? You'll take the Identity Potion, like I do. You'll be a different person."  
"Oh. Well..."

"Where else are you going to go? To Hermione? To Salem? Back to England?"

"No, since I don't want to put her and Ron in danger; no, because there's really nothing for me there; and no, because if I'm recognized, they'll send half the Aurors after me, and throw me back into Azkaban."

"So... where?"

"I could wander—"

"And run into one of Hund's—sorry, Alan's—minions who'll report it back?" Ginny asked. "Brilliant plan, Harry."

"Well... all right. I'll teach till summer. Then we'll see."

"Fair enough," Samuel Hund said. "Well, we'll have to prepare the potion... and then... you've got classes on Monday. All I can say is... good luck. You're going to need it."

XXX

"I still find this Disillusionment creepy," Sergeant Anderson said.

"Quiet," Captain Sherman replied.

"Hermione, you didn't forget the Secrecy Charm?" Padma asked.

"No."

"Ready?" Hemmings asked.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Do it."

Padma raised her wand. "_Reducto!_" The door in front of them was blasted apart. "_Protego!_" Hermione and Padma yelled as they rushed into the room.

"Hands up!" Hemmings demanded. She and the two Delta Force soldiers aimed their rifles.

"What's the meaning of this?" Joseph Stone asked.

"You're under arrest," Hemmings said.

"On what grounds? Do you have a warrant?"  
"As an employee of Area 51, you're under military jurisdiction. We don't need a warrant. The charge is treason. Surrender your wand."

"You know what? I don't think I will," Stone said.

Hemmings aimed squarely at Stone's head. The wizard burst out laughing.

"Cathy, don't ever play poker. I'm calling your bluff. You're not going to kill your own father."

"Father?" Hermione nearly dropped her wand. "What—"

Hemmings frowned. "It is, indeed, an uncomfortable fact that half my DNA comes from this son of a bitch," she confirmed. "Tell you what," she continued, "if my mother didn't live on welfare, if I didn't have to go into the Army to get through college, then maybe, _maybe_, you would have the right to call yourself my father. As it is—don't call me Cathy. Ever. Only my mother called me that. Do you even know she is dead? Your wife, the one you dumped because you thought she gave birth to a Squib? You were right about that—aren't you proud of yourself?"

"How—how did you know all that?" Sherman asked. Hermione couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Joseph Stone—"

Stone laughed again. "Joseph Stone is a fiction. A convenient fiction." He glanced at his watch. "I haven't taken the potion. And I don't suppose you'll let me." Stone suddenly stopped talking and began to change. He grew taller, his mop of white hair was replaced by a buzz cut of dark brown, he stood more erect... and he was giving everyone a very nasty grin.

"You... you're Hund!" Padma said.

"Ding-dong! We have a winner!" he announced.

"You!" Sergeant Anderson was shaking. "What—"

Hund snorted. "Imbeciles. Cathy, I have nothing against you. And I am powerful, you know that. I am becoming more powerful. I will take revenge, and I want you out of the way. Come with me, Cathy."

"Revenge?" Captain Sherman said.

"You be silent. Scum like you sent my brother to die in Vietnam. Payback is sweet—I'm sure Earhart and Bloomberg would agree..."

"_Stupefy!_" Padma shouted. The spell bounced off Hund's cloak and nicked a wall.

"Auror Patil, that was a surprising demonstration of incompetence. Well, come on. Cathy, you're still my daughter."

"No—"

"You _are_. You're not going to kill me. And you're not going to order them to kill me either. As I said, don't bluff. You're not good at it."

"Actually, I've always done quite well in poker," Hemmings said. Hermione raised her eyebrows. "And it was because—" Hemmings fired a burst from her carbine— "I don't bluff." Hund fell to the floor with a hole in his chest.

As soon as he did so, his body began to change again. The dead man in front of them had long, blonde hair and was much thinner than Hund. _What's going on..._

"Poor guy," a voice said from behind. "Well, he volunteered."

Hermione turned to see Hund. "You! How!"

"The Imp—_Sectumsempra!_" Hermione barely registered the fact that Hund held two wands at once when a scream caused her to turn. Blood was pouring out of Captain Sherman's throat.

Sergeant Anderson and Hemmings aimed their rifles and fired... Except Hund was no longer there. The building was shaking as an enormous gray elephant was trying to fill a hallway too small for it. _Hund's an Animagus... _Then the elephant vanished.

Hemmings dropped her gun. "What—"

Padma grabbed Sherman's body and Disapparated. Hermione first wanted to follow her, but stopped. "Let me see your rifle," she told Hemmings.

"Why? What happened—"

"That's what I want to know." Hermione took her wand out and tapped the gun. "Well..."

"What is it?"

"He turned the bullets into Portkeys."

"And—"

"I guess they're not big enough to kill an elephant—and they would do the job of securing his escape."

Hemmings looked thoughtful. "_All _the bullets turned into Portkeys?"

Hermione nodded. "All the ones in this clip. What're you thinking? Using them to follow him?"

"We can do that?" Sergeant Anderson demanded. "Then why are we standing around talking? Let's—"

"Sergeant," Hemmings interrupted him.

"What? We have to—"

Hemmings thought for several seconds. "No."

"He was right, wasn't he?" Anderson said with contempt. "He's your father—"

"That has nothing to do with it, Sergeant! We're tired, we're not on our best, only three of us are here—and who knows where these Portkeys will take us. It's too big a risk. We stay and regroup. Take us back to Fifty-One, Hermione."

Hermione made them hold on tightly before she Apparated. As soon as they appeared, they were met by Padma and Lydia. One look at their faces was enough to tell that something else went wrong.

"Sherman—" Hemmings began.

"I got him to the emergency room," Padma said. "It's up to the doctors now." She lowered her voice. "It doesn't look good."

Anderson's face turned to an expression of rage, and he began moving his rifle. "_Stupefy!_" Padma cried, and dropped him. "Sorry. This won't make him like wizards any more than he already does."

"We've done all we can. All of us," Hemmings said. "I'm not going to ask you to put any more now. Go get some rest. And that includes _you_, Jones. I'll arrange for someone to take care of Sergeant Anderson. Get out of here. That's an order."

Hermione immediately Disapparated, and found herself in her living room. Ron was sitting on the couch, writing a letter.

"Hermione!" he said.

"I..." And she rushed to him and buried herself in his arms. "I can't take this anymore, Ron. I don't know what will happen, but I can't take this anymore. Soon, either you'll know everything, or I'll leave that place. If I can't rely on you to support me, I'll go crazy."


	37. Interlude 2

**Interlude.**

_January 2003, Cincinnati, Ohio._

Ginny never felt like staying on campus of the Cincinnati Magical Academy on weekends. She felt like it even less now that there was a chance—a very good chance—of running into Harry Potter there. She didn't want that to happen. When Samuel Hund was around, when they could keep the conversation about their mutual enemy—it was fine. When they ended up alone... it was awkward. Ginny found it difficult to believe the closeness, the understanding they had once shared. Could any of it ever return?

The major problem was that not many wizards lived in Cincinnati—that was one of the reasons the school was built here. Ginny could see no reason why it would be less favored by the magical world than Boston, Salem, or San Francisco, but it remained a fact. She could, when needed, pass of as a Muggle, but she didn't really belong there. After the awkward experience of Muggle men trying to pick her up, she decided to stay among wizards as much as she could. At least there, she could hex anyone who tried anything untoward, and could honestly talked about what she did for a living.

But because Cincinnati had such as small wizarding population, you hardly ever got to meet anyone new. She wasn't like Hermione, she couldn't be happy by burying herself in books. But the choices before here were not among the best: boredom, misplacement, or Harry Potter.

She entered a small wizarding bar she was familiar with. "Good evening, Miss Weasley," the bartender said. "What'll it be tonight?"

"Nothing. I don't feel like drinking," she said.

"Going to place any bets on tonight's game?"

"You know I am not interested in Quodpot."

"Ahh... I forgot. You're a Brit."

Ginny laughed. Of course the man didn't forget, but he always tried to get her interested in a Quodpot game. The sport was supposed to have the same origins as Quidditch, but Ginny had her doubts about that. The only the thing the two had in common was that players flew on broomsticks and used balls.

"Yes, I am. Why _don't_ you Americans play Quidditch? Just to stand out from the rest of the world?"

"We don't play Quidditch," a new voice said, "because of an unfortunate incident back in 1784."

Ginny turned. A tall young man with hair almost as long as her own stood in front of her.

"Who are you?" she asked. "And what was the unfortunate incident?"  
"Why do you want to know?"  
"I'm curious, and I'm bored. Are _you_ interested in Quidditch?"

"Not really, but I know more about it than most Americans. Sort of comes with the job."

"What do you do?"

"I design, make, and test broomsticks," he said.

Ginny smiled. "That must be fun. The testing part in particular."

"Oh, it is. Especially if you suddenly realize you did something wrong in the other two parts." He pulled open his collar and showed a long thin scar running down the left side of his neck. "Anyway, a broomstick for Quidditch needs to have different characteristics than one for Quodpot—and those in turn are very different from racing brooms, traveling brooms, and performance brooms."

"Oh. I didn't know all that—I always thought they were the same, and I played Quidditch back—"

"The British broomstick manufacturers lobbied your Ministry to end classification of brooms based on purpose. So they don't advertise it, but the distinctions are there. Comets are typical racing brooms, Cleansweeps more suited for Quidditch, and the Nimbus series were always designed with long trips in mind."

"Wow," Ginny said.

"You asked about the 'incident', Miss—?"

"Weasley," she said. "Ginny Weasley."

"Pleased to meet you, Miss Weasley," he said. "I'm Raymond Wilkins. Say, you are not one of –those?"

"One of what?"

"The kind of people who make a big deal over the fact they're pureblood and—"

"No," Ginny said. "My best friend in school was Muggle-born."

"Good, 'cause so am I. When the letter came, my dad go the biggest shock of his life."

"Oh." Ginny couldn't think of anything else to say.

"So... the incident—do you still want to know about it?"

"Yes," Ginny said.

"Some Muggle wars spill out among the wizards," Raymond Wilkins began. "The so-called American Revolution wasn't one of them—for the most part, wizards ignored it. Until one day, the wizards here and in Britain suddenly found themselves under different Muggle governments.

"That immediately caused a problem. A key job of a magical government, remember, is to keep the wizarding world a secret. To have the same organization have to do the job for two Muggle governments, especially if there was a good chance they would go to war with each other, would be difficult. So... it was decided to split up, like the Muggles did.

"So they had a ceremony, the new American Minister of Magic—yes, Minister—we didn't start emulating our Muggle government until the 1900s—took his oath... and someone had a bright idea for a commemorative Quidditch game. Which they held, and which resulted in the New American Minister, his wife, and his best friend killed with a stray Bludger."

"And that's why—"

Raymond Wilkins nodded. "Every time a Quidditch game was played, someone would bring up the incident—and that certainly didn't make people feel good. It was like the new nation was doomed from the beginning. Then Quodpot was invented, and the rest is history."

Ginny shook her head. "I—why didn't anyone else explain it to me?"

"Miss Weasley, how often did you pay attention to your history classes?"

"Not much," she admitted. "But we've—"

"And you think Americans are different? I know this because I enjoy history. but most people—"

"I _work_ at a school. I'm surrounded by teachers. Surely—"

"Perhaps they're not interested in Quidditch or Quodpot. Or perhaps you didn't let them know you were. Anyway, I am, you let me know, and I explained it. Does that entitle me to a dinner date, Miss Weasley?"

"No," Ginny said. "It doesn't. But I'm not against one, either."

Raymond laughed. "I know there isn't much to do in the wizarding part of Cincinnati. So we should go elsewhere. Dinner, a movie... or perhaps a concert is more to your liking—or"—he gave another laugh— "a Quodpot game?"

"Shut up," Ginny said. "I still haven't said yes."

"What is it? Are you involved with—"

"No."

"Good. Neither am I."

"And that's enough for the two of us—"

"It's a start," he said.

Ginny laughed again.

"Very well. It's a date, Raymond—"

"Ray! You are—" A woman ran into the bar, screaming and brandishing her wand. "You—who are you—stay away from—"

"Not involved with anyone, huh?" Ginny said furiously.

"Tamara," Raymond said calmly. "I made it clear that it was over between us. I don't stalk you and watch who—"

"I don't see anyone! I lo—"

"Tamara!" he said. "These... antics are precisely whey we broke up."

"Bullshit! You just didn't—"

"It's over, Tamara. Let go."

"Your father won't be happy you're picking up sluts in bars."

Ginny whipped her wand out. "How dare you!" At the same time Raymond grabbed Tamara and pulled her face towards his.

"You—keep—him—out—of—this," he hissed.

"Fine," she snarled back. "Oh, and by the way"—she looked Ginny in the eyes— "he's not that good."

Ginny aimed her wand at her back, but Raymond pushed it down. "Let her go," he said. "You wouldn't believe what it's been like. I almost understand people who stay in relationships long after there's any happiness in them. Bartender! A shot of Jack Daniels!"

"I'll have one too," Ginny said.

"Two shots! Do you have any exes I should know about?"

"I'm a widow," she said.

"But—"

"But what?" I'm young? These things happen—we had a war in our country. And I'd rather not talk about it."

"I'm sorry."

"You didn't know. It... wasn't what you'd call a happy marriage. I even changed my name back. So no. I do have to work with one of my other exes," she said after a pause, "but he is not likely to bother you this way." _And if he does, I'll give him a piece of my mind,_ she thought. _If Harry can get engaged to someone else, he has no right to get jealous if I date. He keeps saying there's nothing between us. Fine. So there isn't._

"Huh?" she asked, not having heard Raymond's last question.

"I asked what you did," he said. "Are you—"

"I'm fine. The drink must be getting to me. I'm a nurse at the school. My ex is a part-time Defense teacher."

"I can't believe Mrs. Patrick was just... killed like that," he said quietly. "I went there, you know. Graduated two years ago. Mrs. Patrick was my favorite teacher."

"A lot of people say that. I wish I knew her. But then, if it wasn't for that attack, neither me nor my ex would be working there. Principal Wilson had to hire us, since no one else would apply. People are afraid."

"Can you blame them?"

"Not really, but... the school isn't the only target. The riots—"

"You think people think rationally about this? They don't. Besides, there were no riots in Cincinnati."

"Why do you think that was?"

"We're not important enough?" Raymond suggested.

Ginny chuckled. "Possible. I need to get back, I have to go to work tomorrow. But... it's a date. Next Saturday?"

"Sure thing, Miss Weasley." He kissed her hand. "Be careful around your ex."

"Be careful around yours—you seem to need that more than I do."

"True that. I'll see you next Saturday, Miss Weasley. Meet here?"

"Why not? Good-bye, Raymond. And please, call me Ginny." With that, she Disapparated.

That night, Ginny felt better than she had ever since she heard the name Hund.


	38. Episode III: chapter 1

**Episode III: the Boundaries of Love**

**Chapter 1.**

_February 2003, Las Vegas, Nevada_

There are two kinds of post-disaster investigations.

The ones that are actually useful try to find out everything that happened and make recommendations so it doesn't happen again. The ones that aren't try to find somebody to blame, and then pretend that getting rid of that person solves the problem.

After the New Year's riots and Hund's infiltration and subsequent escape, Area 51 got subject to the latter. Colonel Hemmings was drummed out, her security clearance stripped. But without permission to tell anyone what happened or why, she would never be assigned to any but the most boring, risk-free positions in the Army bureaucracy. She would certainly never get another command. So, in late January, Hemmings had resigned from the Army altogether.

Padma had stayed with Ron and Hermione, telling the Ministry that, although she no longer worked with the U.S. Muggle government, she had another lead on Hund—which was technically true, since Hermione told her about Harry's survival and escape.

Lydia Jones was retained at Area 51, and, while having visited her wizard friends several times, couldn't tell them what she did now. Sergeant Anderson was unheard from.

So the last thing Hermione expected was to see the whole group—her, Ron, Hemmings, Anderson, Padma, and Lydia—gathered at their house on a Saturday afternoon. Well, Padma lived with them now, and Lydia had been visiting, but this was the first time since the investigators announced their decision that she had seen the others. She also had no idea how to defuse the obvious tension between Anderson and Hemmings, and the wizards...

Lydia walked around the living room and plummeted onto the sofa, flipping open her laptop. She looked at the monitor for a few seconds, typed something in, and then glanced up at them. "Hund's still out there," she said.

"Tell us something we don't know," Anderson grumbled.

"Alright. Our group was put together because the powers that be thought we would have the best chance of catching him. I happen to believe they were right in that. And if they were right then, then chances are, it's still the case. So we'll keep doing what we've been doing."

"Uhm, we were working under the auspices of the government," Hemmings pointed out.

"We had a base of operations, and access to special Portkeys. That was mostly it."

"So," Ron interjected, "we're going to go after Hund by ourselves?"

Hermione nodded. "It's back to what we've always done. I wish we could tell Harry—"

"But we can't afford to wait for him to show up," Padma said.

"No," Hemmings agreed.

"And we won't be entirely without support," Lydia continued. "Do you really think I would be able to even meet with you if you were really cut off? Fifty-One isn't that stupid."

"What do you mean?" Padma asked.

"General Chandler didn't like what the investigators did any more than any of you. So, while formally you are out, I'm allowed to maintain contact, and know what you're doing. If you need support, Chandler will give it."

"How do I fit into this?" Sergeant Anderson suddenly asked. "You—" he pointed at Ron, Padma, and Hermione—"are _special—_"

"Sergeant, we've been over this," Hemmings said.

"Ma'am, you're no longer in the Army, but I still am—at least, I think I am. But there have been no orders, no reassignment—"

"Sergeant, you won't like what's happening," Lydia said. "You're probably used to your documents saying something other than what actually happened by now—"

"So now I'm the butt of jokes, too. Maybe I should just spill the—"

"Hund would love to hear about this argument," Ron whispered.

Everyone turned to him. "Huh?" Hemmings asked.

"What's the point of these riots? Distrust between wizards and Muggles. Looks like they're succeeding. Even among ourselves..."

After a stunned silence, Lydia continued. "Officially, Sergeant, you'd been seriously wounded in the... events of New Year's, and are now recovering."

Anderson thought for a moment. "Just don't arrange for a fake Purple Heart. Captain Sherman—" He looked at the wizards again, who nodded. Sherman was paralyzed in the neck, with little prospect for recovery. "Could you do what Hund's done? The elephant—"

"Maybe," Hermione answered. "It would take time, and keeping it secret from Hund would be nearly impossible."  
"Why?"

"We need information, and I'm willing to bet Hund is keeping an eye out at wizarding libraries at that sort of thing… so unless we can find someone we can trust to teach us, he'll know. Also, some people are unable to do it at all, and no one knows the form they'll take in advance. If we start working on this, we probably won't have time to do anything else."

"All right," Lydia said. "But we finally have a lead onto Hund. Padma had found out how the riots were organized."

Everyone was shocked into silence. "You never told—"

"I didn't want to do a halfway job. I figured out _everything_. And Lydia said it wouldn't be prudent to tell everyone until Chandler permitted our team to regroup—which had to wait till the investigators were off his back."

"We're waiting," Hemmings said.

"Remember the tricorn carcasses stolen from the Department of Mysteries?" Padma asked. "Tricorns have been hunted to extinction in the eighteenth century, and since then, everyone knows the basics about them, but the critical information is one of the best-kept secrets of the wizarding world—and with good reason. How Hund got his hands on it—"

"Probably the same way he managed to get in here," Lydia suggested.

"Likely," Padma agreed. "And this is another piece of evidence—circumstantial, granted—that it was Hund behind it, and not Bellatrix Lestrange—"

"We shouldn't make assumptions," Hermione countered. "The Black family—"

"This would have been very useful to You-Know-Who, if he knew about it."

Hermione shrugged. "Does it matter now? Hund's using it, right?"  
"Correct. Tricorns were… telepathic animals, among other things. That determines what potions made from their parts do. The one that concerns us is called the Shepherd Potion. It has also been called 'the Imperius Curse in a bottle'."

"Is that… accurate?" Hermione asked.

"Mostly. I'd say it's more dangerous. Under Imperius, the person knows he's being controlled, even if he can't resist it. Here, you can slip someone the potion, and they have no idea that a specific signal will trigger control."

"The Imperius Curse can be resisted—" Ron said.

"So can this, by the same methods. But there's the trick—the strength of resistance depends on inherent abilities and power of the witch or wizard, just like the Imperius—but the strength of control depends on the potency of the potion. A weak wizard can potentially control a stronger one. Not to mention that you can hit someone with a double blast—potion _and_ Imperius. There's no record of resisting that. Ever.  
"That's why there are no more tricorns. They were all… turned into potions. And apparently, Hund's trying to do the same to the last ones. The use of Shepherd Potion is consistent with what those caught in the riots testified to. Unless we're _really _dealing with the mass use of the Imperius Curse—but I doubt it."

"There are no more tricorns, right?" Hemmings suddenly asked.

"No, there aren't."

"Are you sure?"

"If there were, we'd have heard about them in the past two hundred years. And if Hund knows about them someplace… he wouldn't need to steal the carcasses.

"So they're limited in the amount of potion they can make. Can we estimate how—"

"No," Padma said. "This potion can be made to very different potencies, which use various amounts of tricorn brains—that's the active ingredient. We don't know how may of the rioters were under it, and how many were Hund's followers—some certainly are. Maybe they're out already, and that's why this month was quiet. Maybe they can launch ten more riots like the one on New Year's."

"Or one ten times worse," Ron said.

"But they're limited?" Hemmings asked again.

"Yes. Other magical governments in Europe might have more carcasses, but we'd hear about it if they launched a raid on one of them."

"This doesn't make sense… what did the riot give them that they used up a significant portion of a completely non-renewable resource?"

No one had an answer, but Ron was suddenly looking very thoughtful. "Ron?" Hermione asked. "What's wrong?"  
"Anyone has a copy of Weekly World News from last week?"

"You read that crap?" Sergeant Anderson asked.

"I have to agree," Hermione said. "Why?"

"I like it. Especially if it's really a glimpse of the wizarding world, and they're trying to come up with an explanation. And I think there was something—"

"Why didn't—"

"Until you mentioned tricorns, I didn't think there was any reason. It looked just like your run-of-the-mill WWN stuff."

Lydia fired up her laptop. "Let's see… the week of January 19th… I don't see anything about tricorns—"

"Let me see," Ron asked, and took the computer. Hermione watched over his shoulder. There was the front page claim of an alien sighting in Tennessee, a report about carrying two babies in two separate wombs, and a story about a moose who could sing the national anthem. She scanned the rest of the paper. _The absurdities people will believe..._

"This isn't the paper. Not the one they actually sold," Ron said.

"Can you get the—"

"I threw it away. Sorry."

"Do you mean to say," Sergeant Anderson interrupted, "that someone replaced the paper on the website with a fake?"

"Yes," Hermione said.

"That's—"

"It's possible," Lydia said.

"Yeah, but—wouldn't it be noticed?"

"With the kind of people who read WWN?" Hermione replied. "Not likely. And whoever did was creative. It looks like the real thing. And if the original paper really had something about tricorns, who'd be interested that the story would disappear?"

"Hund," Padma said. "Lydia—"

"I'm already on it. I'm going to try to see if their site was hacked... and try to find the original issue."

"Mr. Weasley, can you remember what that article said?"

"Well... it was an interview with... what do you call an animal doctor?"

"Veterinarian," Hermione said.

"Veterinarian. He claimed he was called to a farm to help with a pregnant cow... and when it gave birth, it was... not a cow baby. And it had three horns, still soft, he says. He even took a picture with his cell phone, and the paper printed it."

"A cow give birth to a tricorn?" Padma nearly laughed. "Maybe that doctor had too much to drink."

"Well... it is the WWN," Ron granted.

"Exactly. Why are we—"

"The original issue was definitely removed," Lydia said. "Whoever did it was thorough."

"I still think—" Padma began.

"It doesn't make sense, I know," Ron defended himself. "But wouldn't you say we have too many coincidences here. The very issue—"

"Well. you're mistaken there, Mr. Weasley. _Three _issues were deleted and replaced. Yours, the one from the week before, and the next one."

"See?" Padma said. "It's—"

"I have the original paper," Lydia said. They all moved to look.

The article was what Ron had remembered. a veterinarian in Minnesota was giving an interview. "You know," he was quoted, "the cow's owner looked... unhappy. He told me not to tell about this. I have no idea why—he would earn more money showing that freak animal."

"Lydia, are you—"

"Let's check.. here it is. Local vet, George McClintock. Died in a car crash after the brakes on the car gave out on an icy road. This is from January 24th—so he died in the night from 22nd to 23rd. Who here thinks it was an accident?"

No one raised their hand. Even Sergeant Anderson seemed to think that this put too many coincidences together.

"I think," Hemmings summed up the meeting, "that we ought to pay our 'cattle farmer' a visit."

"Agreed," Anderson said.

Lydia picked up her phone. "I'll tell Fifty-One to prepare cold-weather gear."

"We also need to tell Harry about this."

"Who's Harry?" Anderson asked.

"Our best friend. He defeated Voldemort, and then Hund faked evidence that landed him to Azkaban."

"Your British wizard prison?" Hemmings asked.

"Yeah," Ron said. "So he escaped, came to us, told us what happened, and then went off looking for Hund. We haven't heard from him since."

"And how are you going to contact him?"

"Well... we haven't been able to. But I have an idea," Hermione said. "I won't be contacting him directly."


	39. Episode III: chapter 2

**Chapter 2.**

_Northern Minnesota._

"It won't do you any good to tire yourself out before we even see the enemy, Sergeant," Catherine Hemmings told Anderson, who was pacing around.

"She's right," Padma said. "If you've done everything you can to prepare for the fight, you should relax."

The man turned. "Relax? We're sitting in a barn on an abandoned farm in the middle of nowhere, and we're about to go into a fight with no backup, less than half of us with actual military training, on hastily customized snowmobiles which—are you sure you know what you're doing?" he snapped at Hermione, who, with Ron's help, was finishing the work on the last snowmobile. Once the machines had machine guns installed on them, Hermione and Ron decided to add some magical enhancements as well. After assurances that they'd still function normally, Hemmings let them.

"Of course I know what I'm doing," Hermione said. "When are you going to stop—"

"Can it, Hermione," Ron said. "This… if I wasn't married to you, I'd have my doubts, too."

Hermione glared at him, but Sergeant Anderson interrupted, "He killed three trained Delta Force men—"

"Not quite right, Sergeant," Hemmings said. "Hund, by his own wand, killed one."

"Does it matter?" Anderson retorted.

"From a moral standpoint? No. From the viewpoint of military reality? Absolutely. Hund's powerful, but he's not superhuman. You put a bullet into his brain, he's going to die, and he'll stay dead."

"Uhm—" Hermione began.

"Don't," Ron whispered. "Once was enough."

"Ron, you know it's—"

"What—" Anderson started to ask.

"You can continue that conversation at another time," Hemmings said. "We finally got darkness. It's time."

The small group got on their snowmobiles and the machines, made silent by magic, headed north. Hermione assumed that Hund had a way of detecting magic, and they wanted to spring a surprise.

"There's our mystery farm," Hemmings said.

"You know, this may be a complete waste of time," Padma commented.

"We have to follow every lead we have," Hermione replied.

"Yeah, look where that got—"

"Quiet," Hemmings ordered.

"Where do we head first?" Ron asked. "The house or the barn?"

"The barn," Anderson said. "If we have to attack the house, it'll take all our attention, and we don't want to get stabbed in the back."

"Right." Hemmings turned to Hermione and Padma. "Can you open the door quietly?

"Sure," Padma replied. "Except," she said after approaching the barn door, "it's already open."

"Wha—"

"Quiet, and get ready." They took position. "Now," Hemmings said.

Ron and Padma pushed the doors open. As soon as that happened, the entire barn lit up. After the glare of the light resolved itself, Ron gasped. In front of them stood Hund, whom he recognized from photos, Bellatrix Lestrange, and Ginny.

Hund was smiling. "You've found me, Cathy, and I'm quite pleased to see you. Unfortunately, I cannot say the same for anyone else here. Kill them."

XXX

The doors of the barn smashed behind them and nearly knocked Hemmings down. Ginny and Bellatrix raised their wands.

"_Avada Kedavra!_" both shouted. Ron shoved Sergeant Anderson out of the way of one of the curses and dropped himself. The two green bolts hit the closed doors and sent splinters and sparks flying.

The barn's carpet of straw, hay, and sawdust caught fire, which quickly began spreading.

Hund's faced turned red with fury. "Fucking morons!" he spat. "_Expelliarmus!_"

Ron's wand slipped out of his hand, as did Padma and Hermione's. The same happened to Anderson and Hemmings' rifles. "Run, idiots!" Hund shouted at his companions. Both Ginny and Bellatrix Disapparated.

"Not quite the way I planned things," he said, "but I'll take what I can get." He shook his head. "Fucking morons," he said again. "When I—ahh, what difference does it make to you? None at all." He Disapparated as well.

The five of them crawled to the center of the barn, to get farthest away from the flames. But the heat was unbearable, and as the smoke built up, they had to practically lie on the ground to breathe.

Crack. Ron first thought that the structure of the barn was beginning to fall apart. Then, he looked up at a burst of machine gun fire. All five of their snowmobiles were in front of them, and behind the wall of flame was a hole in the barn wall, through which they broke through.

"Get on!" Padma shouted. There was no need to ask twice. As soon as they boarded, the machines turned and sped out by themselves.

"Good thing we imbued them with personalities," Hermione said.

"Huh?"

"The snowmobiles," she explained, looking behind at the fire. "They came to our aid, on their own. Well… Ron, it's like your Dad's car back—" She patted her snowmobile affectionately.

"We're riding—" Sergeant Anderson started, but was interrupted as the snowmobiles suddenly increased speed and began to spin.

"What's—"

"I've lost control—"

"Is this also something to do with persona—"

"_They_ have lost control too! No—"

"It's like there's a sheet of ice under us, not snow—"

"Very slippery ice. The weather—"

"There are no lakes around here, are—"

"No—"

"This," Padma announced, "can't be natural."

Someone laughed. "It isn't."

"Hund!"

Ron looked up. Hund was about thirty feet above them, riding a broomstick.

"You—"

"You expected Santa Claus? Christmas was over a month ago."

"Don't joke! You—"

"Hey, don't blame me! It was my idiotic—"

"My sister is not an idiot!"

"Judging by the rest of the family, I'd have serious doubts."

"How—"

"They did exactly what you told them to do!" Padma shouted.

"No, I told them to kill you. They _tried_ to kill you. So, no, they didn't do what I told them to. I'll deal with them."

"What do you want?" Hemmings asked.

"Cathy, you're overstepping your bounds now."

"What?!"

"'We do not negotiate with terrorists.' It's the official policy of the U.S. government. You are overstepping your boundaries."

"I'm no longer part of the U.S. government—"

"You little—"

"This strip of ice you created can't last foreve—"

Their motion was halted and they were thrown nearly forty feet ahead, falling into deep snow. "It doesn't," Hund said. "_Locomotor mortis_."

Ron felt his legs stick together. He sat up, but couldn't do much else. The rest of them were in the same position. "Her—"

"I'm all right."

"Tsk, tsk. Lying to your husband." Hund landed next to the snowmobiles. Ron couldn't see exactly what he did, bur it was clear after five cracks of his wand, the machines were useless.

Hund walked around the group several times. "If this was a bad Hollywood movie," he said, "this would be the place where I tell you all about my plans because I'm sure you're all going to be dead soon. But, given her ethnicity, Auror Patil can't be a main character… and the rest of you are deficient in good looks required by Hollywood. So I think we'll skip that part."

"Is that what how you think of life? A bad Hollywood movie?" Hemmings asked.

"No. I think of life as a good Hollywood movie. The kind where the selfless noble hero outwits and escapes sinister government agents sent after him, and eventually brings the truth to light, changes the whole world for the better, and gets the girl."

"You're nuts," Hermione said.

Hund stroked his chin a few times. "Let me tell you something. The nearest town is twenty-one miles away. I'm not going to tell you which direction—have fun guessing. Of course, even if you make it, there may not be any wizards around, so explaining your predicament will be problematic. The Guinness world record for distance covered by crawling doesn't exist… yet. If you make it, you can apply. However, that honor will only belong to four of you. I'm taking Cathy with me."

"I'll not come. I'm going to stay—"

"I'm not giving you a choice, Cathy. You're still my daughter—"

"I am not."

"Don't lie to yourself." He approached the woman.

Hemmings attempted to punch him in the groin. Hund blocked and twisted her wrist. "Yaaow!" she screamed, and then head-butted him in the kneecap. Hund winced, but didn't fall. He yanked Hemming sup and tossed her over his shoulder like a sack. Hemmings continued to punch and kick. Hund, limping on one leg, pulled out his wand. "_Stupefy!_" He sighed.

"I'll be looking at the next year's Guinness Book," he said. "Enjoy your crawl. Oh, and a piece of advice—while you're crawling through the snow, you should avoid any hibernating bears." With that, he Disapparated.

"I don't believe it," Anderson said.

"What?" Padma asked.

"He's lying about the bears."

"Well, that's a relief," Ron said. He crawled over to Hermione and embraced her.

"This is not how I planned to die," Anderson said.

"I didn't plan to die at all—not yet, at least," Padma replied.

"I still don't," Hermione said.

"Guys, we have a problem," Ron said.

"No, you think?"

"Snowfall has just got worse. We're going to get covered, and then—"

"Hypothermia," Anderson said.

"Poor Caroline," Hermione said. "What if—"

"I'm going to try to make it—"

"Ron, what'll—"

"I won't sit and die!" he shouted.

"Okay. Where?"

"Where we came from. There's another snowmobile at that barn—"

"We can also go to the farm house Hund used. At least, we might still be able to warm ourselves at the remnants of the barn fire," Padma suggested.

"Good idea," Anderson said. "The fire will probably be spotted and someone will come."

"How'll we—"

"Let's deal with that later," Ron said, and began the crawl. Soon his face was buried in the snow as he carved a path through it. Anderson followed him. Hermione was next. Padma brought up the rear.

An hour later, after covering a few hundred yards at most, Ron fell from exhaust. "I—"

"Let me ahead," Anderson said. "It's hardest for the person in front, then gets progressively easier."

"Then… Hermione… should… be… last."

"Ron, I can—"

"Right now, you should be last, Ron," Padma said. "That's how we'll do it. Move forward until one gets exhausted, then go to rear."

"Yeah," Hermione agreed. "If—"

"If what?" Anderson asked, getting ready to start plowing through.

"If only someone of us thought to bring a spare wand," she said.

"Yeah, well, hindsight is 20-20."

"I know. Let's go. Our situation isn't getting any better."

Hours passed monotonously. Anderson got exhausted, Padma took his place, and there was still nothing but snow ahead. But despite constantly moving, Ron felt cold. His hands and motionless legs were numb from constantly being in the snow.

Ahead of him, Hermione fell. "Herm—" He reached for her and then his arms gave in and also fell, face first, into the snow.

"Caroline… Hermione… I love you," he whispered as he made another attempt to crawl forward… and collapsed again. "No…."

His vision faded; he remembered nothing more.


	40. Episode III: chapter 3

**Chapter 3.**

_Cincinnati, Ohio_.

Harry had no idea that teaching could be so... exhausting. He had never been as tired after battles as he ended up when the week's classes were over. Once the students left, he would go to the teachers' lounge, sit down next to the fireplace… and fall asleep. The chairs were quite comfortable… and he hard the Charms teacher say that there was an odd sot of magic in the room that made things calmer. Harry believed her. He'd never had a nightmare in the lounge, while they happened everywhere else he tried to sleep. Usually, the nightmares featured Megan.

It wasn't a nightmare that awoke him, though. Someone shook his shoulder. It was fortunate that Harry no longer instinctively reacted by whipping out his wand, ready to fight, on such occasions anymore. If he accidentally hurt a student… he'd already had more chances than he deserved.

"David?" Principal Wilson asked him. "If you aren't too tired, there's some important work I need you to handle."

Harry used a false identity of David Smith as a cover here. Except in the privacy of Principal Wilson's office, even Wilson himself and Ginny used that name. Harry laughed. Of the three of them, only Ginny could go as her real self. He envied her for that… and other things.

Ginny was already in the office, wearing a pretty dress and looking annoyed. Harry smiled at her politely. She turned away.

"Sorry I had to do this," Samuel Hund, stepping out from behind his mask, said. "Ahh… don't you like to be yourself?" he asked Harry pleasantly.

Harry nodded. "What happened?"

"Sir, will this take long? I've got a date—"

Harry suppressed a stab of jealousy and focused back on Hund, who frowned. "I'm sorry, Miss Weasley, but it'll probably take all night—or at least, a good part of it."

"I—" Ginny began.

"We all have to set our priorities. I haven't expected this, but my priority is this meeting. It concerns my brother's activities, so I have to go, and I think you should hear whatever information is exchanged firsthand. It's your choice, Miss Weasley. But we can't wait too long for you to make it."

Ginny looked like she was about to burst out in anger. "I'll Floo Raymond and tell him I can't come," she said.

Hund nodded. "You won't have to change," he said. "And you, Mr. Potter, should also get into formal Muggle clothing."

"Right," Harry said, heading out to get changed. "Where are we going?"

Hund shook his head. "I suppose it makes sense," he said to himself. "Baltimore."

XXX

"Who are we waiting for, Professor?" Harry asked. For some reason, he had never felt very comfortable in restaurants, and never understood why people liked to have important meetings in them.

"Someone very important—and who thought it was important to meet with me. If this has nothing to do with my brother, I apologize in advance for wasting your time. But I have my doubts."

"Hello, Sam," a new voice greeted them. Harry turned to see a short, balding, heavily build man wearing a pair of glasses shake Samuel Hund's hand. "And who'd these two be?"

"My employees, students, and associates," Hund said. "This meeting concerns my brother—"

"How did—"

"I guessed."

The man shook his head. "You haven't changed, Sam. I don't care that the circumstances are... difficult, it's good to see you."

"Thanks. Well, shall we sit down? Mr. Potter, Miss Weasley, this is George Sharp."

Harry shook the man's hand with a firm grip. "Harry Potter," he said.

Sharp blinked. "Oh, great..." Harry muttered, but the man exploded in laughter and turned to Ginny. "You wouldn't _also_ be someone who's supposed to be dead, Miss—"

"Weasley," Ginny said. "Ginny Weasley. "No, I'm not a zombie."

"George," Hund explained, "was the curator of Unit 215 in Vietnam."

"I could have you arrested for divulging classified information, Sam," Sharp said.

"That's the advantage of magic—one move and I'm gone—"

Sharp frowned. "I know. That's the problem—"

He had to stop since a waiter approached them. Once she took their orders, the conversation resumed.

"What I do nowadays," Sharp said in response to Hund's question, "is basically what I did in Vietnam on a much larger scale."

"Oh," Hund said. "By the way, what's your rank—you were a major last time we met, but—"

"General George Leonard Sharp, United States Army," he said. "And I cannot tell you what the actual position I hold is—"

"You're military intelligence," Hund said.

"Well, of course, but that tells you nothing. Suffice it to say that my job is to advise the government on how to deal with your world."

"Oh," Ginny said.

"So that's why you recognized—"

"Mr. Potter's name? Yes. I have to say, despite what I heard, I'm not surprised. I've put out enough misinformation to recognize someone else's. And of course, you haven't heard that," he said after a pause.

"But as you have guessed, this does concern one Alan Hund, claimed by the Department of Magic to be behind last fall's city riots."

"It's not just claimed by the Department of Magic, General," Harry said. "He is. I saw him on New Year's Eve in San Francisco. One of his... accomplices killed my fiancée there. I tried to kill him after that."

"Hmm... " Sharp scratched his chin. "Okay. So, that's not misinformation. But I've talked to enough people from the magical government to know they're scared. They think it's Hund—sorry, Sam—and they have no idea where he is or what he'll do next."

"I don't know much more than they do, George, and neither does Mr. Potter. Our encounters with him have always been... personal."

"I'm not saying you do—but I thought you might have a better chance because of that knowledge. What the Department has told me, not in so many words, is that the riots will continue until Hund finds something better to do with his time, and that they'll continue arriving on the scene a few moments late, fix as much of the damage as possible, and fire off Memory Charms all over the place. And that is unacceptable."

"What?" Hund said, stunned. "George—"

"That is unacceptable," Sharp repeated. "To me, yes, but more importantly—to the President."

"I called you here because you are my friend—and because you might know a way to stop this, as he is your brother."

"Stop what?" Ginny asked.

"The end of your secret. If the magical government won't stop Hund, if they can't control his riots—our government will have to step in."

"You're serious," Hund said.

"Absolutely. It'll mean—"

"It'll mean martial law! Detainment of wizards—a civil war! Have you people gone nuts?"

"I know that, Sam, and that's why I tried to persuade the President to wait before acting. But overall, I have to agree with him. Your secrecy is a privilege that depends on your ability to maintain it. Thanks to your brother, too much has spilled out."

"That is—"

"Correct," Harry spoke up.

Everyone turned to him.

"Harry—"

"What—"

"You don't—"

Harry frowned. "You're correct, General." He looked at Hund and Ginny. "People have been killed in these riots. Killed! That's not something you fix with Repair Spells and Memory Charms! The need for secrecy is a problem Hund's using against us—just like Voldemort had. And as an obstacle against putting a stop to people like that—I say it's doing more harm than good."

"You're not serious, Harry," Ginny said. "Look, if they did that, you'd have—"

"Ginny, if giving up my wand... even my ability to do magic would have put and end to Voldemort—do you think I wouldn't have done that?"

"But it won't—"

"That alone won't do anything, of course."

"So why try—it'll cause problems—"

"Oh, and there aren't any now? I'd say Alan Hund is a pretty serious problem."

"Harry, you don't understand. You're judging things based on my family," said Ginny.

"What—"

"I mean—"

"What the hell is going on out there?"

This question snapped Harry and Ginny out of their argument. Before Harry looked around, one of the restaurant windows shattered. Screams from outside reached them. Within seconds, the restaurant was full of panicked staff and customers.

"Your brother's handiwork again?" General Sharp asked Hund.

The other man sighed. "Probably. Of all places and times..."

"But is this a coincidence...?" the general wondered.

"You think he knew—"

"He might know who I am," Sharp said. "If he does..."

Samuel Hund looked frightened. "You said that in case of more riots, they'll—"

Sharp cut him off. "I've got to get back to the Pentagon."

"Why?"

"To monitor the situation. And give a recommendation to the President."

"And that'll be—?"

"It'll depend on how well your government handles this," Sharp replied. "However, for now, I'm inclined to maintain a status quo, even though they don't fill me with confidence. Plus, it's not like our contingency plan can be launched on a moment's notice. And I know what action on our part will mean."

"The end of the wizarding world by force. George, how—"

"Believe me, I'm glad the decision isn't mine."

"Will the people stand—"

"Executive Order 9066, Sam. Hund's a dangerous terrorist who needs to be dealt with. As I said, Sam, I'm inclined to recommend against anything for now. But if the President orders it, I _will_ obey... and I hope you can forgive me Sam."

"I hope so, too. Let's go, George. You won't make it out of here now—if you can get you car, and if they haven't wrecked it already. We'll get you to D.C."

"I'm not going," Harry said.

"Mr. Potter, why—"

"I'm going out there."

"Where? Into the riot?!" Ginny nearly yelled at him.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"To save anyone I can," he said. "Maybe you can use that as an argument with the President, General." He stood up.

"Harry, the Aurors—" Ginny attempted again.

"Will not get here for a while. These... people think they have free reign over Muggles now. I'm going to show them they don't."

"Then I'm coming with you."

"Ginny, you—"

"Can't? You're going to stop me?"

"Ginny, it's dangerous—"

"If you're going, so am I," Ginny said.

General Sharp looked at them. "Are you two dating?" he asked.

"No," Harry and Ginny said together. "Good luck, Professor... General," Harry said. Then he climbed out of one broken window into the street True to her word, Ginny followed.

All the electric lights have been shut out by magic, so the only light came from burning fires and flashes of spells. That wasn't enough to see much. Harry simply decided to head where the screams were the loudest.

"Harry, wait," Ginny said. With a wave of her wand, she transformed her high-heeled shoes into comfortable sneakers. They looked ridiculous with her dark green strapless dress, and Harry chuckled. She grinned at him and got her wand ready.

"Come on," Harry said.

Harry ran down a darkened street, ready to strike at a moment's notice. He nearly collided with a running, frightened man, who immediately continued his flight. Casing after him where two wizards, periodically lashing out with their wands, causing sparks to fly in front of them.

"Get out of—" one of them yelled.

Two Stunners brought them down. Harry turned towards the man they had chased. He stopped, looked at them, and ran on, quickly turning the corner.

Ginny grunted something. "I wouldn't be so harsh," Harry said. "We're not here for glory or sympathy."

"Why are they doing this?" Ginny asked.

"Because Hund told them to. And because most of them will get away with it," Harry said.

"They won't be punished?"

"Fined, perhaps. But there are too many to throw in prison, and they'll claim Imperius Curse or something like that. They may even be right."

"All these people?"

"Not all," Harry said. "Some. The question is, which ones, and how do you tell?"

They saw a shocking scene at the next street. In the center of the intersection, tied to large pole, were several Muggles, surrounded by a group of wizards. One of them was talking.

"This'll be an interesting twist on tradition," one witch said. "Witches burn Muggles at the stake."

"Quiet," Harry said. "Ginny, this'll feel a bit strange..." He cast the spell.

"Harry, what—?" she asked. "Harry! I can barely see!"

"It'll protect your eyes," he said, casting the same spell on himself. "There are too many of them for us to take, we need surprise."

"How—"

"Wait here until I raise my wand," he replied and, stepping away from the street corner, headed towards the crowd.

"In America," Harry said, walking up to the witch who talked about burning, "witches were hanged, not burned."

"What?" the witch shouted.

"Who are you?" one of the wizards demanded.

Harry raised his wand. "A friend. _Lumos!_"

Harry put so much power into that spell that, instead of the usual light at the tip, the wand released a bright flash that temporarily blinded everyone who didn't have an eye protection spell. "_Stupefy!_" Harry shouted, dropping the boasting witch. "_Stupefy!_"

Ginny joined him. By the time the flash dissipated, every witch and wizard who gathered around the stake was lying unconscious on the ground.

"I'll need to remember this trick," Ginny said.

Harry breathed heavily. "It's not easy." He waved his wand to release the Muggles. He was disturbed by how they looked at the two of them... with a mixture of gratitude and fear.

"What's going on—" one of them started.

Harry cut him off. "Run! Hide! There are more of them out there, and only two of us! We can't be everywhere, and you've already got lucky once!"

That got them away quickly. "Harry—" Ginny began.

"What would you have me do, Ginny? Explain the wizarding world? Cast a Memory Charm?"

"Well..."

"I have no time for the first, and I won't use the second, ever. Not for something like this."

Ginny shook her head. "I've got their wands," she said, pointing at the stunned wizards. "Just in case on of them woke up."

Harry looked at the wands and smiled. "Leave them here, Ginny."

"What?"

"Leave them here. Maybe the MLEA can use them to identify these people," he said. Then he waved his own wand, and the wizards' bodies flew towards the stake and were bound to it.

"Harry, that's—"

"Poetic justice, or a small measure of it," he said. "Come on. Let's see if we can save anyone else."

"You know," Ginny said, "the law says we should have used Memory Charms—"

"I've never been very good at following the law. And I'm actually surprised that you, of all people—"

"What that's supposed to mean?"

"How'd you like it to suddenly find a segment of the past you have no memory of?" Harry asked.

Ginny looked at him in horror. "That was different—"

"You know that _now_. How do you tell the difference as it's happening? And as far as Muggles are concerned, they have no idea—some might even get driven crazy by it."

"You were serious, then. When you said you agreed with the general."

"I was serious. The secrecy of the wizarding world is a problem. We can see it right here. Hund exploited it brilliantly. What the hell did you mean about me basing my opinions on your family?"

"Harry... I could live in the Muggle world, and Ron probably could too. But the only reason for that is that we spent so much time around you and Hermione. If we didn't, we'd be as ignorant as... as Malfoy," she squeezed out of herself. "Maybe it'd be better if there were no secrets to keep—but there are, and a change—"

"People move, people learn new cultures, new languages—why should this be different? Now, I'm not going to scream about it from the rooftops, but I'm not going to put in any effort to further perpetrate it. If the secret leaks because of me... both worlds will just have to deal with it. As it is, it's a lot more likely to leak because of Hund—if it hasn't already."

"All right, Harry. I won't pull a Lockhart. I just don't know if it's a good idea—"

"Oh, it isn't, believe me," Harry replied. "It's just that the alternative may be worse. When the alternative is—"

"That?" Ginny pointed him a few blocks down. A group of wizards were standing around a car. Inside, Harry saw movement—

"Harry, wait!" Ginny shouted as Harry sprinted towards the scene. That, of course, made it worse, as the wizards heard the yell. They turned towards him.

The first one fell to Harry's Stunner, the second to Ginny's. Harry then blinded the remaining ones with another flash and proceeded to knock them down one by one. They approached the car.

"Don't touch her!" the woman inside screamed. Harry looked at her. She had a bloody gash on her forehead and her right arm, terribly bruised, hung unnaturally.

"Calm down," Harry said. "We're not here to hurt you."

"Mommy?" a little girl in the back seat piped up. The woman, despite her obvious pain, tried to get her body in between her and them.

"What the hell is wrong with you people?" the woman shouted. "Do you think it's fun? You people have the sickest sense of fun—"

"Just calm down," Harry said again. "We're not with them."

"Mommy?" the girl said. "Bad wizards—"

"No," Harry answered her. "We're good wizards."

The woman looked at them skeptically. "What—"

"Oh, just relax," Ginny said, and aimed her wand. "_Narcosio!_"

"Wow... it doesn't hurt anymore. Thanks."

"Ginny—"

"I'm on it. Let me see your arm—"

"You're going to stop the bad wizards?" the girl asked Harry.

"Wes, we are."

"There," Ginny said. "You can drive away now—"

"I'm afraid that'd be problematic," Harry said. "They vanished the gas out of your tank."

"So—I'm stuck here?"

"Afraid so. And we've got to leave—"

"What?" Ginny asked. "Why—"

"Ginny, MLEA _will_ show up. They'll put wards around here, and take all witches and wizards they find prisoner—and cast Memory Charms on all the Muggles. What do you think will happen when they find out who I am? I'm not going back to Azkaban!"

Ginny looked at him. "You know, there may just be a way..."

"What are you talking about?" the woman asked.

"Ma'am, since you're stuck here—at least till morning—you wouldn't mind if we get in your car?"

"Well..." the woman started, "I suppose I have to trust you. And if any more of those show—"

"So that's a yes?"

The woman nodded.

Ginny smiled. "Harry—"

"Right." Harry cast the Concealment Charm on the car, which vanished. They had to find the doors by touch. Ginny got into the front seat, while Harry sat down in the back with the girl.

They shut the doors. "Now, no one will see us," Ginny said. "Anyway, we've never introduced ourselves. I'm Ginny Weasley."

"Harry Potter," Harry said.

"Hello," the woman whispered. "I'm Angelica Hines, and this is my daughter, Laura."

"Hello."

"Uhm... I hope you don't mind me asking," Angelica said, "but—"

"You're not crazy," Harry said. "You're not on drugs. There isn't anything in the tap water. You saw what you saw. It's real."

"It's just... hard to believe."

"I know, I was the same way myself when I first got told."

They watched as wizards started appearing in the middle of the street. "Are—"

"Aurors," Harry said. "Be quiet."

"Who are Aurors?" Angelica asked.

"Well, they're supposed to catch wizarding criminals—"

"They aren't doing a very good job, are they?"

"Don't go so hard on them. This stuff is being orchestrated by a powerful wizard—and it's also very unusual. I'd take them time to gather an effective response team—and that's assuming it's not happening in other places at the same time."

"You sound like you know a lot about this," she said.

"I know more than most. It's not enough to stop these things. He's... elusive."

"Mommy?" Laura asked. "Can you tell me a story?"

Harry, Ginny, and Angelica looked at each other. "Why don't I tell you a story instead?" Harry said.

"Harry, are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"Trust me, Ginny."

"Are you gong to tell me a story? Do wizards have stories?"

"Of course we do. So, here goes." Harry paused. "Once upon a time there was a boy who had to live with his aunt and uncle..."

XXX

In the morning, Harry had walked to the nearest gas station and got a tank for Angelica Hines' car. He then asked her to take them to the airport—since he thought the Department of Magic might still closely monitor Portkey travel out of Baltimore. Ginny got shocked when he suggested the idea, although she agreed.

Harry thought he would sleep for the flight, but, once settled into her window seat, Ginny looked at him and asked, "Are you sure this was a good idea? Telling them—"

"Yeah, they're not going to harm anyone. Besides, they would have learned eventually."

"Huh? Why?"

"She's a witch."

"Ange—"

"No, Laura. I tested her. So, when she's eleven, they'll get a letter—"

"Harry..."

"What?"

"Do we act so much like a couple?"

"What?!"

"I mean, General Sharp, Angelica—they just assumed we were. Does it... show?"

"I wouldn't read to much into it. We just met these people. I've had people assume Hermione and I were a couple."

"Why'd you leave me, Harry?"

"What? You left _me_!"

"No—"

"I wasn't the one who married Malfoy!"

"You broke up with me. At Dumbledore's funeral."

"To—"

"To protect me. Did it work?

"After you broke up with me, I was really angry. And then... do you want me to be honest, Harry?"  
"Of course."

"I started to wonder whether you cared."

"How could—"

"What was I supposed to think? My parents were killed in front of me, while I was forced to watch. And you ignore—"

"I had—"

"Ron was there to comfort me! Hermione showed up for the funeral! Percy visited me in secret! You, where were you, Harry?"

"You know I had to—"

"Couldn't you spare a little for me?" Ginny paused. "As for Malfoy... well, it's rather complicated. Do you remember Joseph Stone?"

"I met him, once or twice. Order member, with a reputation for stealth skills."

"Well, right on New Year's Eve that year, he showed up at Order headquarters. With Malfoy in captivity."

"Why didn't he hand him over to the Ministry?"

"Because, if you recall, this was shortly after the Ministry, in their infinite wisdom, authorized the use of the Cruciatus Curse for interrogation."

"Oh. So Stone—"

"Didn't like that. Neither did Malfoy."

Harry laughed. "There's an unbiased opinion."

"Well, so Malfoy was kept prisoner at Grimmauld, and Stone talked to him... a lot. He had me sit in on those conversations."

"Why?"

"I don't know. But you were often the topic of conversation. And, well, it was hard do see Malfoy as a Death Eater after weeks around him, confessing all sorts of secrets."

"And you believed him?"

"Some of it was valuable intelligence for the Order. And Stone also talked about you. Once, I asked what I could do to get us back together. Do you know what he said?"  
"What?"

"Even if you do that, nothing will change. Harry Potter will never let you go into danger alongside him. If he ever does, you should break up with him, because it means he no longer loves you."

Harry squeezed his fists. "Why, I should find that—"

"I had the same reaction, but as time passed, I started to wonder if he wasn't onto something. I'm still not sure it was entirely wrong."

"So—"

"So, as that year progressed, Malfoy started to appear more human... and you less. So, that's how it happened. I made a mistake, Harry. With you, with Malfoy... can you forgive me?"

"I've forgiven you a long time ago... for that. But why'd you stay with him?"

"I ran away the first time he cursed me."

"And ran straight back after talking to me."  
"I don't know why, but almost as soon as I touched you there, I felt... overwhelming hostility. I wasn't really seeing you, Harry, those times at Grimmauld. I was seeing... images of a future. You putting me away for my "protection", telling me I couldn't play Quidditch because it was to dangerous—"

"I'd never—Voldemort was different—"

"Was it? I _knew_ you would never do anything of the sort, but I kept seeing that. And I kept seeing Malfoy being all caring and loving—he could do that, or at least pretend to. I tried to resist, but I guess those images mixed up with what you _really_ were doing—which _was_ exhibiting your protective streak, against Malfoy. And... I was too weak."

"You aren't weak."

"I fell for the images over the reality of your caring and Malfoy's violence. I experienced those images whenever I was near you—including at the trial. I—"

Harry sighed. "Well, if I haven't been sent to Azkaban, I never would have recovered my memories."

"Harry! That's not the way to make me feel better about it!"

"I'm not trying to. I forgave you, Ginny. And it also helped me escape."

"How so?"

"Well, when I remembered being Obliviated, I was mad enough to cause a few cracks in the walls of my cell and bend the bars, so they moved me to another one. And I used that to plan my escape.

"When I remembered your testimony at the trial, I focused my rage and caused an explosion. A guard rushed in, I overpowered him, took his wand, and put him under the Imperius curse."

Ginny was shocked. "You risked—"

"I thought that they couldn't do much worse to me than I had it already, and it was my only chance. I had that guard sneak potions to me that helped me fake the death. I had him dig out my coffin and transport me back to the mainland. I had him find my wand and give it back to me. I then Obliviated him."

"You—"

"I know. I had to do all that—I couldn't have the Ministry start a search—but it doesn't make it right. Ginny... do you forgive me?"

"For what? Obliviating—"

"No. At the time I escaped, you still lived at Malfoy Manor."

"Yes. I left after Hund tried to recruit me at your funeral, but it wasn't immediately. So?"

"I knew that. I could have visited you as soon as I escaped. I didn't, despite the fact that you were right there, and Ron and Hermione, in my state back then, were months away."

"Months?"

"I didn't know how to make Portkeys. I couldn't Apparate all the way to America. I didn't have any Muggle money. The only way to get anywhere was to sneak in the hold of a cargo freighter, and then use cargo trains to get across the country—and walk for substantial distances to avoid the major cities. If I had gone to you—"

"It's all right, Harry. I would be surprised if you showed up on my doorstep."

"You showed up on mine. You said you felt horrible after—"

"Ron told me I was responsible for your death. I felt he was right."

"I made my own decisions. You didn't _make_ me go off to kill Malfoy."

"Your love for me did. You wouldn't be you if you hadn't."

"For that, there is nothing to forgive. I'd do the same thing again in the same situation. Would you marry Malfoy again?"

"Of course not!"

"There's the difference."

"I forgive you, Harry."

"I forgive you."

"Thank you. But Harry... think hard about what Stone said. Because if he was right—then there is in fact, nothing between us... and there never will be. Because I'm not going to stand being put away."

XXX

Hermione opened her eyes and shut them in the face of bright light. "Where am I?" she asked.

"Fifty-One's medical section," the voice of Sergeant Anderson came from her right.

"What—what happened? Ron—Caroline—"

"I'm here, Herms. Caroline is safe—"

"You, however, are not," another voice spoke. Hermione sat up on the bed and rubbed her eyes open. Lydia was standing in the doorway, looking angry.

"Huh?" Hermione asked.

Lydia glared at each of them. "You are the ones with magic; you are the ones with military training; and yet, I'm the one who has to pull your asses out of the fire—or in this case, out of the snow. Where's Colonel Hemmings?"

"Captured," Padma said. "She tried to fight it, but Hund knocked her out—"

"How did you find us?" Ron asked.

"I tapped into a spy satellite," Lydia said.

"Lydia, what is wrong—"

She tossed a newspaper at Hermione. _American Wizard_ was the US equivalent of the _Daily Prophet_, the most prominent wizarding newspaper in the country. It was about as accurate as the _Daily Prophet, _too. Hermione looked at the date. "How long—"

"It's today's," Lydia said. "It's the largest one yet—although it was only in one place," she continued, talking about the new anti-Muggle riot in Baltimore.

"What does that—"

"We—or rather, General Chandler—knew something was going to happen there. He sent a wizarding team to keep an eye on things. Then you got into trouble, I found you, and convinced him to get you back. Lucky for you, he thinks I'm a valuable employee, so he listened. He pulled the men out of Baltimore and sent them to get you—which, by the way, was illegal, since you were about half a mile across the border into Canada, and General Chandler didn't bother to consult with his Canadian counterpart. And then, Hund struck in his usual method. Baltimore was the biggest riot yet, and not only didn't we get Hund, we got _nothing_, because the people we had there had to be pulled out. So, General Chandler is quite pissed right now at you lot. After all the effort to convince him that this team has value, it turned into a disaster. We'll be lucky if investigators don't show up—again. I wouldn't ask him any favors anytime soon."

"How did we know about the riot in advance?" Padma asked.

"We didn't," Lydia said, calmer this time. "Not explicitly. We did know something was planned. As for how, I don't know. General Chandler only told me about this after it happened. My guess is, we've got a mole in their organization."

"What's going to happen now?"  
"Well, we should rescue Colonel Hemmings, first," Sergeant Anderson suggested.

Lydia turned to him. "Do you know where to look?"

"Well, no—"

"Right. So we can't do that—at least not till we get some information about where he might hold her. Anyway, the decision on what to do isn't yours to make."

"Whose, then?" Ron asked.

"Mine."

"What?" Hermione said. "How—"

"Like I said, General Chandler's mad as hell. He won't let this happen again. You have two choices. Resign completely, and then you _will_ be on your own—and that includes information. The second is to remain as you are, but with me officially in command. And my decision is we can't afford to look for Colonel Hemmings now. Considering her situation, I doubt her life is in danger."

Ron looked up. "We've been by ourselves before—"

"No," Hermione said, and looked around. "We need support from Fifty-One here."

Lydia nodded. "I'll inform General Chandler. Since you're not going into combat immediately, there shouldn't be any problems releasing you from here in a few minutes. After that, you're to eat lunch, and then head straight to our office. While we can't rescue Colonel Hemmings yet, we do have a new piece of intelligence that needs to be looked into. Are any of you familiar with the name Helen Gertrude?"

They all shook their heads.

"Well, you will be soon. More than you'd like to be." With that ominous warning, Lydia left the medical section.

Hermione didn't know what to think. Lydia was a great person, but to have her be in command? When she was neither military nor wizard? Hermione hoped that General Chandler knew what he was doing. If he wasn't, they were all in trouble. _Actually,_ she thought, _even if he __does, we may be in trouble_. It was hardly comforting, especially after you just narrowly escaped death by hypothermia.


	41. Episode III: chapter 4

**Chapter 4.**

_April 2003, Cincinnati, Ohio._

Harry walked into the principal's office, unsure what to expect. He both hoped and feared it would be something like last time. His conversation with Ginny did get him thinking and he—

_Ahh, who am I kidding. I'm still in love with her, I always was. And Ginny would would be really mad if she, again, was pulled off her date for no real reason._

_Well, all is not lost... she's dating him, not getting married, like with Malfoy. And they have that problem of the stalker ex-girlfriend, Tamara._

Harry couldn't help himself, but several times, he took to his hawk form and flew around the city, watching Ginny and Raymond Wilkins. If Ginny ever found out, she'd kill him. But Harry was quite disturbed by Tamara. _What's the difference between you and her?_ a voice in his head asked. _I'm not intruding into their lives_,he answered. That didn't sound like much. He knew that he'd have done this tonight if Principal Wilson didn't ask to see him.

The door clicked behind him. Harry, knowing Principal Wilson's habits, sat down in a chair, and dozed off. He didn't have to wait as long as he thought he would, though.

"Good evening, Mr. Potter," the principal said. Only he wasn't under the effects of the potion. He was his real self, Samuel Hund.

"Good evening, sir," Harry replied. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, just tired—as I'm sure you probably are as well. What are your plans for the holidays?"

"I was going to visit my friends in Las Vegas."

"Good idea. Don't worry, you can still do that. I'm not here to give you an assignment."

"Then—"

"This... may be a coincidence, in which case, anything we do would be a colossal waste of your and my time. But I have a feeling it isn't."

"What, sir?"

"Do you have any idea why the Department of Magic isn't putting out wanted posters for Hund's major lieutenants?"

Harry never thought about this, or paid much attention. "Because they don't know who they are?" he ventured.

"In some cases, yes. However, they do know, or suspect—at least in the case of most. But they don't want them to know they know—thus, every document concerning the searches is secret."

"And of course, they tell it to you—"

Hund laughed. "Well, I do have my sources. The thing is, my brother never put much stake in other people. His underlings tend to be just that—people who dutifully obey his orders, but lack any real... fire of their own. With two exceptions. One, you already know."

"Bellatrix," Harry said. "Why—"

"Correct. She's his link to the remnants of Death Eaters, and other British Dark wizards. The raid on the Ministry last year was undoubtedly her doing."

"And the other?"

"We—that is, you and I, not the MLEA—knew _of _her for a while."

"Her?"

"Do you really think a man could impersonate Miss Weasley so well as to fool you?"  
Harry nodded. "Wait—we know who'd behind—"

"It's my guess, which makes sense. Even if it's not her, she's someone to be concerned about." Hund put two photos on the table.

One showed a woman in her late teens or early twenties, with short smooth dark hair and icy green eyes. The other photo was of much lower quality, but there was no question—it was the same woman, only older, standing on some sort of rise, wand high, she was giving an order to wizards next to her.

"Helen Gertrude," Hund said. "The first picture is from eight years ago, when she was last seen—until now. The second is from the Baltimore riot. A Muggle took it in the midst of it all. The MLEA modified his memory once they got there, but didn't remove the film. When he developed it, he had no idea who it was, so he took it to the police. The MLEA eventually got its hands on it. Of course, they couldn't get much out of it. I learned about it, in part, because it caused an uproar between the Obliviators and the Magical Criminal Investigative Service."

Harry laughed. "I'd side the MCIS any day."

"Oh, right. You're not a big fan of memory modification. But back to our business. Helen Gertrude. There are some circles where she is—or was—very well known—and I'm not sure they'd like to hear that she's back."

"Huh?" Harry asked.

"Helen Gertrude," Hund continued, "is an unusual specimen. She's a witch, but she never went to any magical school. She obviously received magical training, but it must have been in the past eight years, as an adult."

"What difference does it make?"

"One, she won't be tripped by a lack of knowledge about the Muggle world. Two, given her background, she's dangerous even without her wand."

"Her background?"

"She was a fan of extreme sports, and had inherited enough money to indulge her hobby to the fullest. She was well known in these circles—and even other lovers of extreme sports were shocked by the stuff she did.

"One of her favorite activities was 'Skydiving Chicken'," Hund said.

"What's that?"

"Two people jump out of an airplane at the same time. The first one to open his or her parachute loses."

Harry opened his mouth. "People actually do that?"

"I suppose those of us who'd been through a real war don't think much of cheap thrills like that.

"She was prone to challenge people to such games. So, when she vanished, many felt relief. The running joke was, 'Helen Gertrude had won her last game of Skydiving Chicken'. But it is only rumors. We don't know what really happened to her—except, she clearly didn't die."

"And she's working with—your brother?"  
"That's what it looks like. She had some leadership role in the Baltimore riot—maybe even orchestrated the thing on the spot."

"And you think it was her who was impersonating Ginny?"

"I think it's likely. It is something she'd pull off."

"And why—"

"Because you should know that Alan is not the only serious danger you might face. Now—" he gestured— "you'd earned your vacation. However, in case you do run into something, let me give you these." He handed Harry a clear box of three capsules, colored red, white and blue. A silver pinhead was sticking out of one end of each capsule, a golden one out of the other.

"What are these?" Harry asked.

"Highly illegal gadgets that were used quite a bit in Vietnam," Hund answered. "They're tracking devices. You take the silver pin out of the capsule, and place it on the object or person you wish to track. You stick the golden pin into your wand, and it points to the silver one. In order to stop detection, the charms expire after a set time from the moment you withdraw the pin. Red lasts six hours, blue twelve hours, and white, twenty-four hours. Once it expires, there's no way for the person who was tracked to find out about it—the pins become ordinary pins, with no trace of magic. Just don't mix it up." He smiled. "Gold is more valuable than silver, so gold is the one you keep. That's how we remembered it."

"Thanks," Harry said. "But you said it might have nothing to do with your brother at all?"

"That is certainly possible. But Helen Gertrude was definitely in Baltimore on the night of that riot, so she still probably has some information that we will find useful."

Harry nodded, and pocketed the capsules.

"Good luck, Mr. Potter," Hund said as he was leaving. "You'll need it."

XXX

_Las Vegas, Nevada._

Harry was quite nervous as he approached his friends' house. _At least I look more presentable than I did last time_.

He rang the doorbell. A few seconds later, Ron appeared. They stared at each other for a few moments.

"Harry!" Ron exclaimed. "Come in!"

"Hey. How's everything?" He looked at Ron, who had several fresh scars on his face. "What happened?"

"Frostbite," Ron answered reluctantly. "Long story." He strode over to the playpen. "Caroline, take that out of your mouth." He took the plastic toy away.

"Want mommy!" Caroline shouted.

"Mommy's busy right now. Daddy will have to do. Caroline, meet your Uncle Harry—"

"Ron—"

"I don't care what else happened—you're family."

"Thanks. Where's Hermione?"

"Away. I suppose it's a good thing they won't send us on a mission together again, but I'm worried. Last time, we ran into Hund—"

"You did?" Harry asked. "Where?"

"In Minnesota—not that it matters. He isn't there anymore. That's how I got these." He traced his scars with his finger. "He left us in the snow to die, after capturing our commander.

"And now, they think they can get more information by following this lead, so they sent Hermione, Padma—"

"Padma? What is she—"

"She's an Auror, and was sent to work with us—"

"So she did become an Auror." Harry smiled. "We were training together—until I washed out. Before... before I got sent to Azkaban."

"Oh. Well, they've been sent to New Orleans now, and probably won't be back till tomorrow at least." He frowned. "I know it's a bad idea for me to go because of Caroline, but I'll—"

"Ron, I got a week off my job, and I wanted to spend it with you. I'll go and try to help Hermione. Maybe that'll make her return quicker and more successful. I've learned quite a bit since we last met."

"You'll go there—"

"Yes. It's all about stopping Hund, right? Plus why should we both sit here and worry when I can do something about it?"

"But... you wanted to spend time—"

"With both of you. We should get Hermione back here for that. New Orleans?"

Ron nodded and embraced his friend. "Good luck. But Harry..."

"What?"

"I'm not sure how to say this... but Ginny's working for Hund now."

Harry laughed. "No, she isn't, Ron. That'd be an impostor named Helen Gertrude."

Ron sat down. "Are you sure?" he whispered.

"Yes. When did you—"

Ron gave him the date. "The night of the Baltimore riot?" Harry asked, and received a nod.

"Well, that settles it. Whoever it was, it wasn't Ginny. Ginny was with me. In Baltimore."

"In—you were there?"

"Yes." He sighed. "I hope we aren't about to get a New Orleans riot on our hands."

"With our luck?" Harry and Ron both laughed.

"Everything will be fine, Ron. I wish I could stay longer, but—"

"Hermione might need you. Go on. I'm not going to keep you."

Harry headed out the door. "I haven't been to New Orleans yet," he said.

Ron looked at him. "It's not like we get to see the best parts of the city on such missions."

"I just hope it doesn't turn out a big waste of our time. Hund's an expert on making us do that."

XXX

_New Orleans, Louisiana._

New Orleans greeted Harry with pouring rain. While he didn't know exactly where Hermione and the rest were, he knew it had to be near the coast, since their target, as Ron told him, was at sea. That narrowed it down... somewhat. And his Animagus form was useless, as he would only get his feathers wet.

They would probably, Ron said, use some abandoned shoreline building as a staging area, Harry remembered as he walked down the waterfront. Thanks to the rain, he was the only person around. Harry wouldn't expect anything different. He could hardly see ten feet ahead, even with the water-repelling charm on his glasses. He was also as wet as if he had been swimming.

Thus, it was a major surprise when saw not one, but two people ahead of him. One was standing, looking towards the Gulf, her hair, tied in a long braid, swaying in the wind. The other was walking towards her with long, purposeful strides.

Out of curiosity, Harry wrapped himself in his invisibility cloak and waited. He nearly revealed himself by gasping, though, when the second woman approached. It was Tamara, Ginny's boyfriend's ex-girlfriend.

"You're late," the waiting woman said and turned towards here. Harry couldn't believe his eyes or his luck. It was Helen Gertrude.

"Sorry. The rain—"

"Do you have it?"

"Here." She handed something over to Helen. "I have no idea what—"

"Ours not to reason why—ever heard of that?" Helen retorted. "You'll get what you want. Alan doesn't make promises he can't keep."

_She's working with Hund. Samuel was right. _Harry took out his wand. "_Lubrio,_" he whispered.

Tamara slipped and fell on newly slippery ground. As Helen reached to help her, Harry took one of the silver pins out of its capsule and struck it into a braid of Gertrude's hair. Then he immediately retreated. The noise of the rain masked any sounds he made.

"Thanks," Tamara said. "I still want to know when—"

"Alan is a busy man, Tamara. He'll get even busier soon. You're being overpaid for an easy job anyway."

"Easy—"

"Yes, easy. You can be replaced. _I_ can be replaced. He can't. Without Alan, we're doomed. Everyone will end up like my father."

"Yeah, yeah. I've heard it all before. I'm sorry, but I don't worship Alan Hund the way you do."

"That can change," Helen said.

"No, I doubt it."

Helen shrugged. "Doesn't matter. What matters is that you keep doing your job and not blab about it."

Tamara shook her head. "Do I look stupid? I just want some assurance you won't toss me aside once you don't need—"

"You can always be useful, Tamara. You got plenty of talent. And I already told you Alan never breaks his promises."

"And I should believe you—"

"If he did that, I wouldn't follow him," Helen replied. "Anyway, you should go home. You're soaking wet. I—and Alan—wouldn't want you to fall down sick. It'd make our job much harder."

"Yeah, whatever. But if I don't get what I got into this for—"

"You will. Trust me. See you next month, Tamara."

Tamara shrugged and Disapparated. Helen paused for a moment, turned around, and did the same.

Harry stuck the golden pin into his wand. It twisted and pointed out into the Gulf of Mexico. Harry shook his head, then, deciding he had no choice, cast a warming charm on himself and entered the water. Hermione could wait. He had only six hours before the tracker expired, and he needed to use them properly—corner Helen Gertrude, pump her for information, then capture her and turn her over to the MLEA. He noted the direction his wand was pointing at and began to swim.

XXX

It took Harry over an hour of swimming to get to his destination, which turned out to be a large motorboat. It was devoid of any lights, and Harry had made twenty fumbled attempts to climb on board before succeeding. It wasn't a full-blown storm, but Harry, having never been aboard a ship in the ocean before, still found it difficult to keep balance. Of course, the insides of the boat were sealed off to prevent water from the rain from flooding it. Harry quickly located the entrance, unlocked it with his wand, and climbed in, sealing it behind him. He then cast a drying charm on himself and looked around.

There was one exit from the compartment, and it led into a well-lit, carpeted corridor. Harry heard a familiar sound of the shower in the end of the hall. He grinned. In his Auror training, in lessons on confrontation, they emphasized that you had to make your opponent feel inferior. Being naked against someone clothed could do that all by itself.

Harry wrapped himself in the invisibility cloak and sneaked into the shower room. Helen was, as he surmised, behind the curtain, and her wand lay on the counter. Harry picked it up and snapped it in half.

The crack got Helen out of her distracted state. Harry whipped off his cloak and, as soon as Helen opened the curtain, aimed his wand at her chest.

"Who are you?" she demanded. "What do you want?"

"I'm the one who'll be asking questions around here. I want information."

"Just information?"

"You've got nothing I haven't seen, so yes, just information."

"All right, let me—"

"No. You'll answer everything here. I'm not going to give you a chance to get your hands on a wand—even if I did note the wards when I came in. Smart move on the part of Hund. Don't want Aurors to land right on top of him. Where is he?"

"I don't know."  
"You're on a first-name basis with him. You must have some idea of what he's up to."

"If you were smart, you'd support him. If you knew what he was up to—"

"Well, the whole 'Kill Muggles for fun' routine turns me off. Excuse me for having morals. Where is he?"

"I told you, I don't know."

"When will he come back here?"

"I don't know that, either."

"What is Hund's plan? What did 'they' do to your father? Who are 'they'? What does Tamara want from Hund? What is she doing for him? What did he give you?"

That's a lot of information. Alan's plans are voluminous."

"I'm willing to listen."

"Look, why don't we get to the bridge, and I'll give you access to our computers."

"You use computers?"

"Alan finds it useful, and he likes to play games. Just let me get dress—"

"You can operate a computer naked, last time I checked. I wouldn't put it past you to keep a weapon in your clothes. Meanwhile, give me the short version."

Helen stepped out of the shower and walked past Harry under wand point. Harry followed. "To which question do you want the short answer?"

"All of them."

"The short answer? Hund wants to run wizarding America without Muggle interference. 'They' are the Muggle government, who sent my father to get killed in Vietnam. Tamara wants her boyfriend back, whom _your_ ex-girlfriend took from her."

"They broke up before Ginny and Raymond met. And how do you know she's my ex-girlfriend. You don't even know who I—"

"Oh, please. You're Harry Potter."

Harry paused for a moment. "So you've heard of me."

"Yeah, you and everyone else on the planet. You're not going to get by on your reputation with me—or with Alan."

"How do you know my reputation wasn't earned?" Harry asked.

"Well, Mr. Potter, for one thing, you still have no idea what Alan really wants."

"Should I? Don't answer that. Have you been impersonating Ginny?"

Helen laughed. "Yes, I have. Yes, Potter, I killed your fiancée. Going to kill me? Want revenge?"

"If I didn't know Hund gave you orders to do that, if I didn't want revenge against him more, I would. I still might. Don't push me."

"And if you don't? If you do capture me and hand me over to the Department of Magic? Just what will they charge me with? On what grounds?"

"Leading the Baltimore riot and killing Megan."

"And the evidence? A low-quality Muggle photo? Your word? The word of an escaped convict who's supposed to be dead?"

"What are you trying to say?"

"You must realize that the _only_ way for you to get justice is to kill me yourself. Otherwise, no matter what you do, you're letting me go free. Since you realize that, you'll kill me whether or not I give you information in our computer. And since you'll kill me anyway, I have no incentive to give you that information. So I won't. Alan will probably be upset, but he'll find a replacement, and his plan will come to fruition. And you can have your temporary feeling of justice served. However, I'd like you to take a look at this."

They were on the bridge. Helen tapped several buttons, and lit up one of the screens on the panel. Harry looked at it. It showed a blond-haired woman lying on a cot. "Who's that?"

"A prisoner, kept on board. Now—"

And with that, the boat shook, and began to keel over to port. The glass windows on the bridge shattered, splattering the floor with shards, which were immediately followed by a torrent of rain. Two broomsticks fell out of the ceiling. Before Harry realized it, Helen grabbed one.

"You can chase me, and probably will catch me—but then, the prisoner will die when the boat sinks. Or you can save her—but I'll escape. What will it be?" She flew away.

"_Avada Kedavra!_" Harry sent the curse after her, but she already vanished in the rain, and he couldn't be sure he hit her. Cursing, he ran out, hoping to make it onto the lower deck before it filled with water.

When he got there, the water was already waist-high. He waded through toward the door. "_Alohomora!_" he shouted. "Come on, let's get out of here!"

"Who are you? What're—"

"No time! The ship is sinking!"

Fighting the incoming current was difficult, and it took them far longer to get back to the top deck than it took Harry to get to the bottom. They were in chest deep water by the time they made it out to one of the windows. It was already underwater.

"_Reducto!_" Harry cried, and a stream of water rushed at them. Harry grabbed the woman, cast a Bubblehead Charm around their heads, and plunged into the water.

They swam out the window and headed to the surface. By the time they made it, only the stern of the boat remained visible, and it was rapidly sinking. Harry breathed heavily.

"Do we swim to shore?"

"No, we'll get out of the wards' range and I'll be able to Apparate. Why were you kept—"

"Can I tell that story once we're on solid ground?" the woman demanded.

Harry nodded, and swam away from the sinking boat.

Once they swam a distance that Harry judged was enough, he took the woman's arm. "Here we go," he said, and Apparated.

They landed on the New Orleans waterfront. There was a haze of lights in the distance from the city building, but the rain was pouring harder than ever. Harry panted rapidly. He was exhausted.

"Come on," he said, leading the woman towards what looked like an abandoned shack. "We'll dry there, and then consider what to do next."

They walked up to the shack, and Harry pushed the door open. He immediately found himself staring down a barrel of a gun, and an aimed wand. A light from another wand hit his face.

"Harry?" Hermione gasped. "Colonel Hemmings? How on Earth—"

XXX

"I don't believe it, I don't believe it," Hermione kept saying as Harry told her what happened.

"Hermione, I didn't do much. And she got away. She tricked me, Hermione. She said she'd give the data on their computer and—"

"Did you say they had a computer?" Hermione asked.

"Yes. I should have known, she gave in too—"

"Harry, never mind. Do you think there really is data there, or was Helen just lying?"

"She could have come up with a better lie." Harry frowned. "Besides, they definitely did have a computer there, and somehow I doubt that all Hund's using it for is playing games."

"Then we've got to recover it."

Harry laughed. "Sure. As soon as Helen got away, she'd go straight to Hund."

"Do you think she'd be that eager to report failure?" Hermione countered. "We have this chance, and we must take it. We have one broomstick with us. Harry, you take Padma where the boat sank, and watch out for her. Padma, you'll dive there, find the boat, and bring the computer back. Harry—" she handed him a box of playing cards— "this is our emergency Portkey. We'll take a public Portkey back—we were here to get on that boat, but since we no longer can do that..."

"Hermione, even if Hund hadn't got there already, he might show up."

"Then..." she whispered, "distract him as long as you can, get to Padma, and escape, computer or not."

Harry breathed. He was tired, but he knew it had to be done. He nodded.

"Did Ron tell you we were here?" Hermione asked.

"Yes."

"I've got to thank him," she said.

"For what?"

"For not coming himself," she replied. "Go. Hund will show up eventually—every second counts."

Harry nodded. Padma got on the broomstick in front of him, and they flew off. Harry followed his tracker, which still hadn't expired. "So," he said, "you're an Auror?"

Padma smiled. "Yeah, I made it through. Surprised?"

"No, I had no doubt you'd graduate. Remember how many at Hogwarts talked about it? You're the only one of our class who actually got there."

"You would have, if—"

"If I didn't go crazy and ended up in Azkaban?"

"Well... you know, technically, I should arrest you now."

Harry laughed. "You're not going to, though."

"I missed you, Harry. There wasn't much company in the rest of the class. I threw myself into my studies to keep sane. And I really don't know what you wanted to accomplish by killing Malfoy. It didn't get you Ginny—"

"I didn't kill Malfoy."

"You planned to, though. Right?"

"Padma, I'm sorry, I had my reasons, but these are between Ginny and myself. We're here," he said and headed towards the water.

Pop. A figure on a broomstick appeared to his left. Pop. A smaller figure came into being on his right.

"Padma, dive!"

"Hermione said—"

"Dive! Get the computer! I can't maneuver with you here!" Padma leaped off the broomstick, cast the Bubblehead Charm, and vanished underwater.

"Well, well," Alan Hund said. "This is quite a surprise. Hello, Potter. It has been awhile."

XXX

Harry looked at the other figure, expecting Helen Gertrude. It wasn't her. It was Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Long time no see, Potter," she said. "_Avada Kedavra!_"

Harry flew up, forcing Hund to duck his ally's spell. He laughed. "Nice cooperation you two've got."

"Bella, where are your manners?" Hund rose level with Harry. "I think we both know what we're after."

"Yeah, we're after the same thing. But I've got an advantage."

"Oh?  
"You can either take me on together—which gives Padma the time she needs. Or you can go down there yourself—in which case, you're risking Bellatrix being bested by me. You don't trust her, Hund," he said, making sure he was loud enough for Bellatrix to hear. "You don't trust her to beat me. And you can't send her down there yourself because she wouldn't know a computer from a mousetrap."

"_Avada Kedavra!"_ Bellatrix, who came up behind Harry, shouted again. Harry dove, and Hund, once more, had to dodge the curse. He frowned.

"Think you're clever, Potter? _Reducto_!"

Harry barely escaped out of the way. "_Stupefy!_" he yelled. Hund avoided it.

"Not willing to kill me anymore?"

"Just saving my strength. Killing takes a lot of power. You fall into that—he pointed at the raging sea below—and you can't move, you'll drown. I don't see a difference. _Stupefy!_" He tried to stun Bellatrix, but missed her as well.

"I don't think you progressed far enough in Auror training to get to broomstick combat, Potter," Hund said. "Otherwise, you'd have remembered that—"

"_Aguamenti Calorio!_" Harry yelled, and a stream of boiling water hit Hund in the face. He screamed.

Bellatrix managed to get a killing curse off, and Harry, while avoiding it, caught it with the tail of his broom.

"—your broomstick is the weakest link. Goodbye—"

Padma's head appeared on the surface.

"Harry!" she shouted. "I got it!"

"_Avada_—"

"_Stupefy!_" Harry roared, hitting her before her curse went off towards Padma. He hit his target, and Hund dove to catch her. Harry, seeing the tail of his broomstick on fire, toppled off and plunged into the water towards Padma.

Hund had caught Bellatrix and aimed at them just as Harry grabbed Padma's arm and activated the Portkey.

They landed on the carpet in a well-lit spacious office. Hermione, Colonel Hemmings, Ron, the man who was with Hermione and Padma—Sergeant Anderson, Harry remembered—and a woman Harry never seen before stood around them.

"Padma!" the woman Harry didn't know exclaimed. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah—except this guy disobeyed your orders, Hermione."

"Harry—"

"You told him to get us away if Hund showed up. He did, as did Bellatrix Lestrange. Instead of taking the Portkey, Harry told me to dive, and tried to hold them off."

"I did it, right?" Harry said.

"Harry," Padma said sternly, "your broomstick was about to be wrecked. If I lasted a moment longer—"

"We had to get that computer," Harry replied.

"Hermione, you should have known better than to give Harry an order like that," Ron said. "Does 'Get the Snitch or die trying' ring any bells? Well done, mate."

"Harry... if there's nothing of value on that computer, I'm going to kill you myself," Hermione said. "Lydia—"

"I'll take a look at it." She picked up the bulky machine. "Well, we won't be able to cash in on the warranty, that's for sure," she said. "Let's hope the data survived..."

"Meanwhile, you better tell us the rest of what happened to you," Hermione said. "I've got an idea that just might work."


	42. Episode III: chapter 5

**Chapter 5.**

_June 2003, Cincinnati, Ohio._

Harry had almost finished grading the students' exams when Ginny burst into his office, looking like an angry tiger.

"That... that... jerk!" she managed.

"Ginny, what's wrong?"

"He—Raymond—went back to that stalker!"

"What?" Harry demanded. "To Tamara?"

Ginny nodded. "I saw them kiss. He claimed she pushed herself on him after I confronted him, but I didn't see him push back. And he apparently never told me they'd been meeting for a while—and he had a really stupid excuse for why."

"Like what?" Harry asked.

"He told me she came to him and complained someone was stalking _her_. He said she offered to leave him alone forever if he helped her get rid of the stalkers. He said he did, stunning two of them while the third escaped

Harry dropped his pencil. "No..."

"Harry—what—"

"He really did that?"  
"I suppose so..."

"Damn, damn, damn. He couldn't have known, of course, but..."

"Harry? You're babbling."

"No. Tamara wasn't being stalked, she was being _surveilled_ by the MLEA."

"Why?" Ginny asked.

"Because she's an agent of one of Hund's top lieutenants—Helen Gertrude. They hoped to find Gertrude herself by monitoring her moves."

Ginny sat down. "Are you sure?"

"I was the one who saw them together. I followed Gertrude and tried to capture her, but she escaped. But I told Hermione about it. She works—well, sort of—for a Muggle government agency that has connections with the Department of Magic."

"Just great," Ginny whispered. "She went back to Hund?"

"Or Gertrude, more likely. Somehow, I doubt Tamara came up with the idea by herself. This smells like a Gertrude operation."

"Is she that important?" Ginny asked.

"Gertrude is thought to have led a number of these riots in person, and she was the one impersonating you under Polyjuice Potion."

"How do you know that?"

"She told me, while we fought. I tried to kill her after that."

"Harry... my god..."

"I don't think Wilkins was in any way involved. Gertrude has tricked a lot of people. You should—no, probably I should tell him that myself. If you want me to, of course."

Ginny was about to reply when Harry yelped as something burned in his back pocket. He took out a small ivory carving of gargoyle—except the gargoyle's wings turned a bloody red color.

Shocked, Ginny pulled out an identical figurine of her own—except its wings were white like the rest of it.

"Why—"

"I told Clarence you're a traitor, remember? Well, we'll deal with everything later—if we have to. I'm going to Salem."

"I'm coming with you," Ginny said.

"No, you—"

"Not this time, Harry. Not again. Unless you didn't think at all about what I told you. Was Stone right?"

"Stone... Ginny, Stone never existed. He's as fake as Cade Wilson or David Smith. Joseph Stone is an alias of Alan Hund."

"What?! No... it can't—"

"It is. Hermione told me. He worked with them for a while and was caught."

"My god... he used me. He used us all... why?"

"I don't know. I can try to think about it later, but right now, Diana Clarence needs my help.

"And if it wasn't for a misunderstanding—on your part, by the way—she would have asked me to do the same. Clarence was my friend a lot longer than she was yours. I'm going."

"I can leave right now—"

"First, I know how to make Portkeys, too; second, you won't."

"Come on," he said, taking her hand. "Let's go."

They landed at Salem, next to the school grounds behind the forest where the school buildings were. The Dark Mark hovered over them.

"Damn," Harry said.

"That doesn't mean they've already killed someone."

"Not yet."

"Hey!" a female voice shouted at them. "Show your tokens!"

Ginny reached for her Gargoyle statue, but Harry pushed her arm down. "Show yours!" he demanded.

The woman stepped out, wand at the ready. "Together," she said. "One, two, three—"

All of them took out the statues. The woman's, like Harry, had blood-red wings.

"Where are they?" Harry asked.

"Hello to you, too," the woman said. "I'm Pat Horner."

"Harry Potter," Harry said, without thinking.

Pat Horner's eyes went wide, and Harry realized it was too late to correct his mistake. He prepared to stun her. "Look, I'm not going to tell my life's story while people are dying. Let's go." He and Ginny ran towards the school, and Pat Horner followed.

"I work for the Department of Magic," she said when she caught up to them. "I should arrest you."

"You'll regret it if you try," Ginny said.

"I said I _should_. If Clarence trusts you, so do I. Watch—"

Harry had spotted it already and threw up a shield charm. Three glowing hot objects shattered in mid-air and dropped a shower of sparks on the ground.

Four small trolls brandishing clubs stepped out from behind trees. They swung the clubs towards Harry, and the same type of glowing objects detached from the club tips and sped at him. Harry caught them, but two more trolls stepped out before he could launch a spell in response. "Gin—"

Ginny was gone from his side. Harry looked around to make sure she wasn't hurt, then threw up the shield again to stop the next barrage of hot projectiles. One got through, and Harry had to jump up to avoid getting his legs seared.

Then came a bright flash, as if night suddenly turned to day. When Harry looked up, the trolls all dropped their clubs and were clutching at their eyes. "_Stupefy!_" Harry shouted, aiming at the nearest troll. The creature fell, and Harry aimed at the next one, but it was down already. Ginny nodded at him, and sent out her own Stunner. Harry did the same, taking down one of the remaining trolls, and noted that yet another one was lying on the ground. _Pat Horner,_ he thought.

By the time the last troll recovered from the blinding enough to pick up his club, three wands were aimed square at his head. "_Stu_—" Ginny began.

"Wait," Harry said. "How many of you are here?"

"Thirty," the troll said.

"Any more on this path?" He pointed at the rarely-used path towards the school.

"Two more, right after the creek crossing."

"_Stupefy!_" Harry said, and ran down the path.

"Hey!" Pat Horner shouted as she ran after him. "We could have—"

"We're here to stop the Death Eaters, not clear the forest of trolls," Ginny said. "Auror?" she asked Pat as they followed Harry.

"Not quite. MCIS. It fits, right?"

"The 'interrogate-and-find-out-what's going on' thing? Yeah... Hold on, where are those trolls?"

Harry motioned at them from the other side of the creek. "I Stunned them," he said. "Turned into a hawk, flew over the creek, and hit them from behind. Let's go."

Two men stood guard at the school entrance. Harry and Ginny caught them by surprise, Stunned them, and attempted to rush in.

Inferi began appearing out of the ground all around them. They were weak—fire spells kept them at bay without much effort. _Death Eaters are scraping the bottom of the barrel_, Harry thought without much glee. Then he realized that their purpose was to delay rather than defeat him—and that they were succeeding admirably at it.

Pat Horner also realized that. "I'll hold them off!" she shouted. "Go! You're better at this than me!"

Ginny and Harry nodded and ran up into the school behind Pat Horner's cover.

A duel was taking place on the central staircase. "_Ennervate!_" someone was shouting. "_Ennervate!_"

"_Stupefy!_" another voice yelled. Harry glanced. Four older girls were facing six adults. Two more attackers were clambering up. A body lay among the students' legs, motionless.

"Just give up... girls," a man in a Death Eater hood said. "You're—"

"_Stupefy!_" Harry and Ginny fired off their spells at the same time, and two attackers, including the speaking Death Eater, fell. "_Serpensortia!_" he shouted. Three snakes burst out of his wand. Two landed on the Death Eaters' faces, the other on an attacker's arm. "Strangle them," Harry ordered in Parseltongue.

"_Lubrio!_" Ginny yelled, and the last three attackers slipped and tumbled down the stairs,where the students, having recovered from shock, Stunned them.

The Death Eaters with snakes around their necks were unconscious by now. Harry recalled the snakes, cast the full body-bind on the attackers and vanished the serpents.

The four girls gasped at him in horror. "What—"

"Yes, I'm a Parselmouth," Harry said annoyingly. "No, I'm not evil."

"He's not evil... mostly," Ginny said. She leaned down to the body of a girl lying on the ground.

"Is—"

"Dead," another student said. "I don't know what spell it—"

"There's more of them!" another girl shouted. "They're going to the dormitories—"

"Harry, I'll take charge of the students, and clear the school. Find Hund and Bellatrix."

"But—"

"Just go. This is all a distraction, you know that. Hund is key." She pulled him in and kissed him. "I love you."

A Death Eater appeared at the top of the stairs. "_Avada_—"

"_Stupefy!_" Harry hit him, but as he fell, a woman took his place. He recognized her as Alecto. "_Stupefy!_"

He missed, and Alecto ran off. Harry threw a glance in Ginny's direction—she was in the lead of the four students, brandishing her wand and running towards the dormitories. Harry followed Alecto.

He didn't see her, or anyone else, in the corridors. _OK,_ he berated himself, _think_. _What could Hund want here?_

_If I get to the top of the hill, and see the school from above, I may get a rough idea where the troubles are_.

He headed for the teachers' lounge. The closet inside was a secret passage into the large oak on top of the hill. It was possible that Hund didn't know about it.

Several bodies lay about in the lounge. Harry didn't take time to notice if they were Stunned, Petrified, or dead. He headed into the closet.

As soon as he came out of the tree, something pulled him up, swung him around, and pinned him to the ground with irresistible force. Someone wearing boots approached and stepped on his right hand, crushing his fingers. Harry felt his bones break and bit down to keep silent. But after a few moments, he could no longer resist, and let go of his wans. The booted foot kicked it away beyond his reach. Harry looked up.

It was Bellatrix.

"We meet again, Potter. But trust me, this time will be the last," she said.

XXX

Harry looked around. A large cauldron, with a roaring fire underneath, stood in the center of the clearing, guarded by Alecto. Across from him, Diana Clarence and Melissa Lyman lay on the ground, pinned down by two giants. Harry assumed he was in the same state. Bellatrix walked around, smirking.

"Do you really think a half-blood like you could defeat—"

"He's a half-blood too!" Harry yelled. "Or did you miss that—"

Bellatrix didn't reply, because Hund had landed his broomstick next to her. "Well?" she asked.

"Bellatrix, I always keep my promises. Even if he fails—"

"How dare you—"

Hund shook his head. "Bellatrix... one way or another, Potter won't be able to do anything to stop me." He tossed something to her. She caught it, and looked skeptically. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. And now, I must go—"

"You won't stay and witness—"

"Voldemort and myself have never seen eye to eye. I'm not as powerful as him, but... Alecto, kindly tell him that I can call on numerous allies here in America, and that he better stick to Britain. Live and let live. He can have it, he can have Europe—but America is mine. It'd be better for both of us if we don't fight each other. Even if one of us wins in the end, the Muggles and Muggle-lovers will use the weakened state of the victor to undo all we have worked for." He walked around the cauldron a few times. "Diana Clarence," he said, facing the Salem Headmistress. "You are the best teacher I've ever had... and I've heard that you would say I was the best student you've ever had. I believe such a coincidence... should be immortalized. Made sure it always remains the same. Now, I will not have any more teachers, since,"—he laughed— "I'm now a teacher myself. So, all that this condition requires is that you don't have any more students. _Avada Kedavra!_"

Hund looked at Lyman. "It's a pity you didn't marry me when you had the chance, Melissa. You wouldn't be in this predicament if you did." He bowed gracefully to Bellatrix and Alecto. "I've other business to attend to, ladies. Say hi to Tom for me." He vanished silently.

"Alecto!" Bellatrix ordered. The other woman approached Harry and put a knife to his crushed hand, collecting a few drops of blood in a vial.

Bellatrix took the object Hund gave her. "Bone of the father," she said, "unknowingly given, you will revive your son." The dust sprinkled into the cauldron.

She took the knife from Alecto. "Flesh of the servant, willingly given, you will restore your master." With that, she sliced off a finger on her left hand and let it fall in.

Harry knew... this time, Voldemort would not take a chance by dueling him. Nor was there a Portkey to get him away. "No..." he whispered.

Bellatrix heard him and laughed. "Aww, afraid of the big bad Dark Lord? Soul of your person, loyally carried, you will remake your body."

"_Stupefy!" _someone cried. Bellatrix managed to throw up a shield to stop the Stunner. She raised her wand. "_Avada_—"

Someone ran into the clearing and pushed Bellatrix from behind, right into the cauldron.

Harry winced. He was sure the person meant well, but it only brought the resurrection closer to—

"Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe—" Alecto quickly said, and tossed the vial of Harry's blood into the cauldron before falling to a Stunner from above.

The vial tumbled through the air as Harry watched it. Right as it was about to disappear, a hand grabbed it. Harry followed it. Ginny, sitting on a broomstick and holding the vial, was beaming at him.

"Now!" Luna's voice shouted, and Harry watched two strange objects hit the giants' faces. Clouds of purplish gas burst around them, and the giants began to fall down...

"_Expelliarmus! Expelliarmus! Expelliarmus!_" Harry felt himself yanked out of the giant's hands, and landed next to the cauldron.

"Harry!" the person who pushed Bellatrix in helped him up. It was Neville. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah..."

Ginny stepped up. "Let me see." She took his injured hand and waved her wand over it. The pain stopped. "This was a close call, wasn't it?" she asked. "It's your blood, right?" She held up the vial.

Harry nodded. He looked at the cauldron and his scar was hit with a burst of pain. "Voldemort is still in there. I think it might take all of us—"

"Right," Ginny said, as she, Luna, Neville, Pat Horner, several other people, and the Salem girls surrounded the cauldron. Harry picked up his wand and walked over to Melissa Lyman.

"Miss Lyman?" he whispered, seeing her crouch over the dead body of her Headmistress. "Miss Lyman?"

"I—" she cried, "—don't—believe—"

"Miss Lyman, we've got to finish it once and for all, otherwise, she'd have died for nothing."

"Miss Lyman—" Pat got on the other side of her. "—you've got to—"

"No... I can't..."

"Come on, Miss Lyman." They lifted her up and dragged her over into the circle. "I'm sorry, but we need you." Harry pushed her wand into her hand. They aimed at the cauldron.

"Vanishing charms, on three. One. Two. Three. _Evanesco!_"

Each wand released a spell, and they hit the water. A column of black smoke and soot rose out of it and floated down, burning through the stone, melting down the cauldron, putting out the fire, and seeping into the ground. The grass where it did so wilted and died, and everyone sprang away from the area.

Harry breathed, and rubbed his scar. "If this is any indication... he's gone. And Bellatrix was the last Horcrux, so it's over." He frowned. "Chances are, nothing will grow on this spot for years—maybe for centuries." He looked around. "Thank you. All of you. I—"

"Come on, Harry," Ginny said. "We still have—"

"We've got to tell Ron and Hermione what happened here," Harry said. "Hund's about to launch something, and it'd be better to confront him together."

"Harry..." Neville said, suddenly sounding very awkward.

"You've got to check on the kids, right?"

"Huh?" Harry said before realizing what was going on. "Go," he said. "You've done more than enough—and I even forgot you had—kids, plural?"

Neville nodded. "Twins. Alice and Poseidon."

Harry knew Luna well enough not to comment. Instead, he turned around for a final look, focusing on the giants that now lay on the ground. "How did you knock them out, anyway?"

"Dungbombs loaded with sleeping gas. A very concentrated form of sleeping gas. On a human, a dose like that would knock him out for days," Luna said. "Ginny... Harry... go." She pointed at Pat Horner, who was busy organizing the remaining people. "It's in good hands."

"Right. How did—"

"You said to contact you through here. We tried. But even when we couldn't, she wrote back and told us to visit, since she wanted to tell us in person. We were worried, Harry. Just—"

"I'm sorry. Neville, are you sure, you—"

"It's fine. Just... don't run out on us again."

Harry sighed. "I won't have any reason to, will I? Not after Hund's gone... But that has yet to happen, and if we don't do something about it, it won't. Ginny—"

Ginny hugged Neville, then Luna, then walked up and shook Pat Horner's hand. "Good luck," she said.

"You too," she replied.

Harry picked up a rock. "_Portus. _June," he said, "isn't the best time to go to Vegas."


	43. Episode III: chapter 6

**Chapter 6.**

_Las Vegas, Nevada._

Ginny looked very nervous. "Are you sure I shouldn't—"

"Ginny, you'll have to met them sooner or later. It's time we get our family back together. Come on. It's your brother and your best friend. They'll forgive you. They miss you, I could tell last time."

"And when we announce we're dating again—"

"Are we—"

"Are we?" Ginny repeated. Harry thought for a moment.

"I guess we are—"

Harry rang the doorbell. He gasped when it opened. Standing in front of him was Hermione, but it was Hermione in an evening gown, high-heeled shoes, with straightened hair, makeup, and jewelry. "Harry!" she shouted. "Ginny? Oh, dear."

"What's the occasion?" Harry asked. "Is Ron—"

"Hermione?" Ron came from upstairs. "Harry, what are—Ginny, just what do you think—"

"Guys, stop," Harry said. "What happened in the past is between Ginny and myself."

"You forgave her?" Ron demanded.

"Hey, I'm here!" Ginny yelled.

"We forgave each other," Harry replied. "But she's right. She's here."

"And we came to tell you something—"

Hermione glanced at her watch. "How long will—"

"Hermione, don't you think we should let Harry in—"

"What about—"

"If you can't tell Ginny, don't tell me," Harry said.

"Well, it's not up to us—but we can take them in. Ginny, Harry, wash up. In half an hour, you're to look like we do—or reasonably close. We'll explain later."

Harry nodded. "Come on, mate," Ron said, showing him upstairs. "Did you really make up?"

Harry nodded. "We've decided to date again," he said.

"What? Making up—"

"It'd get there eventually. I love her. She loves me." He looked back at Ron. "Trust me, I know what I'm doing."

"Yeah, mate, sure. You've got twenty-eight minutes to look like a Muggle going to a formal dinner." He shrugged. "Hermione's words."

Harry grinned and stepped into the shower.

Half an hour later, Harry, wearing a tuxedo and having made a mostly futile attempt to make his hair lie flat, returned downstairs. Ginny was there, wearing a long black dress and a pair of gold bracelets. Ron and Hermione were also joined by Lydia Jones, Anderson, and Catherine Hemmings, who smiled at Harry. He greeted the group and turned to Ginny.

"Hey, you look beautiful."

"Harry, don't lie. Black doesn't really go with my hair color. I wish I could get a green one."

"Sorry, Ginny," Hermione said, "but I can't help you there, since green doesn't go with _my_ hair color. And since you absolutely refused to wear a pink one..."

Ginny looked terrified. "I—"

"Ginny, stand still." Harry took out his wand and waved at her. With a 'splotch' noise, her dress and shoes turned light green.

Hermione slapped her forehead. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"You had more important things to worry about," Harry said. "And Ginny, don't worry. You always look beautiful to me." He stepped up and kissed her.

"Are you lovebirds planning on contributing?" Hemmings asked.

"Of course," Ginny said.

At this moment, the front door opened. "Hi, Padma," Harry said.

"What—it's like the old days, isn't it?" she said, sitting down on the couch next to Sergeant Anderson. "Why are we meeting here—"

"Because we need to hear the briefing General Chandler will give. I managed to get a special feed into this TV—" She pointed at the living room set. "And it's worth paying attention to—that includes our newly reunited couple," Lydia said, shaking her head.

"Sorry," Harry said. "We'll have time later," he told Ginny.

"Will we?" Ginny asked.

"If we succeed tonight," Hermione said, "you'll have all the time in the world."

"Seeing as you made up and started dating again—when did this happen?" Ron asked.

They looked at each other. "Tonight," Ginny said.

Ron gasped, then laughed. "So, are you getting married tonight, too?"

"Ron, don't give them ideas—"

Harry looked at Ginny, who burst out laughing. She stopped and looked at him. "What do you think, Harry?"

"All right." Lydia turned on the TV. For a moment, the screen was blank, then the picture resolved, although it was quite low-quality compared to a real TV program. It showed a podium with an audience of slightly over a hundred people. Two men wearing military uniforms stood behind it. To his surprise, Harry recognized one of them. "That's—"

"—General Sharp," Ginny said.

Hemmings looked at them. "How do you—"

"We've met," Harry said. "Long story. What's he doing here?"

"He's been sent to oversee the operation, and he'll take Fifty-One over from Chandler afterwards," Lydia replied. "I think Chandler knew for weeks, and he's _not _happy."

"Does he know about—"

"Us?" Lydia asked. "Yes, I briefed him personally. He approves—mostly."

"What do mean?" Hermione pried, but Lydia motioned her quiet so they could her the general speak.

"I'm sure that by now, you are all sick of hearing about Alan Hund and his band of terrorists," General Chandler said. "If you do your jobs tonight, you won't anymore. However, if we fail... it could lead to a disaster. We have uncovered most of Hund's objectives, and have devised a two phase plan to stop him. The phases are dubbed Operation Snow White and Operation Rose Red."

Someone in the back sniggered. General Chandler frowned and continued. "The term 'riots' used by the press for the violent events Hund's been involved in is inaccurate, since these were all carefully orchestrated. Hund had used his followers to lead the riots, and achieved mass by liberally using the Shepherd Potion."

"That's impossible," someone in the audience said. "That potion requires tricorn—"

"Cloned tricorns, using genetic materials from the carcasses stolen from the British Ministry of Magic. We learned about that in February—"

"I told him." Lydia looked at them.

"—and have had some success in shutting down these farms, but it's a safe bet we don't know about all of them.

"You've been screened for that influence when you entered this room tonight," he said. "There's no antidote to the potion, but its use can be detected. Back to Hund. He's going to start another "riot" like the ones we've had all over the country. Operation Snow White is simple: minimize the loss of life and property destruction they can inflict, by making them waste their time fighting us.

"The MLEA will eventually be on the scene, but that can take a while—they will need to get ready, and Hund may try to do something to delay them. We can't afford to let the terrorists have free reign until the MLEA arrives.

"We doubt the regular police will be of much help—they're unprepared and will have no clue what's happening, while Hund's people, on the other hand, will know exactly what to expect from them.

"We have however, recruited a number of security guards of various casinos, who will aid us, especially if the terrorists get inside their territory. They've been instructed, like you all were, to not drink anything but bottled water we checked. Hund may have been slipping the potion to other guards, though.

"We have also learned they're planning something we haven't seen before. Enchanted vehicles that'll cause mayhem and try to kill people. That is the biggest danger. If you see a vehicle moving without a driver operating it, it becomes your number one target."

He pulled something out of his pocket and showed it to the audience. It was a hand grenade, with a purple band painted across it. "You'll get a number of these, in addition to the usual tear gas grenades. Use them on magical vehicles. It should nullify any enchantments used. However, it'll also wreck all other enchanted devices in the blast radius. That includes your emergency Portkeys." He waited for a moment. "Good luck. General Sharp."

Sharp stepped up. "Hund's second plan, however, is the real threat, and could cost thousands of lives. If you are told Operation Rose Red has failed, you're to drop everything and attempt to finish what we start." He activated the screen. "Caesar's Place," he said. "Hund plans to bring that building down. With people inside."

"The advantage of the situation is that Hund will not trust any underling to do this, and that the magic Hund plans to use requires him to be on top of the building if he wishes to preserve his own life. Five separate teams of trained wizards and special forces troops will make their way to the roof and take him down. As soon as the riot starts, anti-Apparition and anti-Portkey wards will go up around the hotel."

"And where do we come into this?" Ron asked.

"We don't," Lydia said. "Sharp didn't mention us. If Hund has a spy in that audience, he won't know that either. We're going to be the mobile reserve for the Operation Rose Red."

"I better reserve another room," Hermione said, and picked up the phone. Lydia opened her laptop.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked.

"You need to actually go into the hotel itself, not just the casino. So you'll have to check in. Good thing we've arranged to make false documents for you back in April. James Evans, is that right?"

Harry nodded. "And me?" Ginny asked.

"We won't have time to contact Fifty-One and have them make an arrangement, so the room will be reserved in the name of Mr. Evans," Lydia said. "Hermione—are you making that reservation now?"

Hermione nodded, and Lydia turned to her keyboard. "If only the computers Hund uses were so easy," she said. "Go."

Hermione finished the call, gave the credit card number, and hung up. "What did you do?" Ginny asked Lydia.

"Made sure the room that came up was the right one. Northern section of the building, seventh floor. Next to an elevator with roof access.

"You four—" she pointed at Ron, Hermione, Harry and Ginny—"head to Caesar's now. The rest of us will follow. If all of us come in together, it'll raise suspicions."

"You're coming along, too?" Padma asked Lydia.

"I am. We may need a physical connection to some system. Don't worry. I'm not going to rush off into battle."

As they got into the car, Harry filled Ron and Hermione in on recent events. "Bellatrix is gone," he said. "Most of the remaining Death Eaters and a few of Hund's followers have been arrested. We have less to worry about."

Hermione nodded. "Although," she said, "Tamara—"

"Escaped surveillance," Harry finished. "We know. She wasn't providing much, was she?"

"No... I think she knew about it—or guessed—from the beginning. But Helen Gertrude won't be absent from Hund's big operation. Chances are, we'll meet her tonight."

"How will Hund bring the hotel down?" Ginny asked.

"Projected Fracture Curse," Hermione said.

"What's that?"

"Put it this way," she said, "When we transfigure something, we change its properties. If you change the material properties of a building so it can't support the weight anymore, it'll collapse. Quite simple. You usually can't do it for a large building like Caesars Palace—they are built sturdily. It'll require either exceptional power, or numerous wizards coordinating their effort."

"But Hund—"

"Won't use either. Power can be concentrated and then released, however. The magical grenades General Chandler showed. If you can release that power and channel it along particular paths, you can disrupt the material everywhere you need, instantly, by yourself. It requires exceptional control—"

"Which Hund has," Harry finished. "And if he succeeds..."

"Why would he do this?" Ginny asked. "Blow up a hotel—"

"To get in power," Harry said. "I can't believe I haven't seen it before."

"What are you talking about, Harry?" Ginny said. "How—"

"Remember what General Sharp told us in Baltimore? If the wizarding community can't contain Hund—"

"I've never heard about this," Hermione said. "What happens then—"

"They're going to do away with the Statute of Secrecy and attempt to handle Hund themselves."

"You're talking civil war," Hermione said.

"Exactly. Don't you see? If they try to move against wizards, it'll make Hund very popular—and he already has a fighting organization in place. Wizards make the perfect terrorists. Hund will be _more_ powerful if civil war erupts."

"But there are more Muggles," Hermione said. "He can't win."

"He won't have to," Hermione said. "He'll use the war to destroy wizarding opposition, and he'll then negotiate a peace. If it'll stop the terrorism, he'll be accepted.

"That's why I think the Statute is a bad idea in the first place."

"Well, it shouldn't cost all these lives to abolish, even if we want that," Ron replied.

"If we win, it won't."


	44. Episode III: chapter 7

**Chapter 7.**

_Caesars Palace Hotel, Las Vegas, Nevada._

After they checked in, Harry and Ginny went up to the room they were assigned and opened up two suitcases that Ron and Hermione had in their car. Inside each were several anti-magic grenades General Sharp mentioned at the briefing, an invisibility cloak (Harry gave his own, which he thought was better, to Ginny), a broomstick that shrank when put in the suitcase and popped back to full size when you took it out, and a small device that looked like a Sneakascope that could also sense where the trouble was coming from. The devices started whirling about, not settling on any particular direction.

"This is Vegas," Ginny said when Harry commented. "There are plenty of unscrupulous types, but I think they'll be able to pinpoint someone with mass murder on his mind."

"Unless he is too good of an Occlumens," Harry said. "I don't like this."

"What?"

"Waiting for a riot to start. Reacting to Hund."

"What else can we do?"

"Find someway to disrupt his plans. If I was Sharp, I'd try to cut power to the city. Hund's followers would have trouble keeping their disguise as Muggles."

"That'll keep the magical world secret," Ginny said.

"That's not the point, and you know it."

"Yeah... and it may hurt more people than it helps. Hund may be expecting something like this."

"Doubtful."

"Harry," Ginny whispered.

"Huh?"

"I'm afraid."

"So am I."

"No, not for the usual reasons. I think Helen Gertrude liked pretending to be me. She might want to extract revenge personally."

"She won't fool me. Not again."

"That's _not_ what I'm afraid of."

Their cell phone rang. "Harry," Hermione said as soon as he picked it up, "you and Ginny better come downstairs. We have trouble."

XXX

The others were waiting for them at the casino. "What's going on?" Harry asked.

"The riot started," Hemmings said. "And when General Sharp's teams attempted to enter the hotel, we discovered there were anti-_wizarding_ wards around the hotel."

"The special forces soldiers managed to enter, but the wizards accompanying them were stuck," Padma said.

"So what now?"

"Hund must have expected it. Since he must have known about our wards, he's probably already in the hotel."

Ginny gasped. "So it's up to us?"

Hemmings looked around and then said quietly, "They're going to try to get in using underground tunnels. Maybe he forgot to place wards all the way."

"Not likely," Harry said. "Can we break the barrier from the inside?"

"I can," Hermione said. "Should we do it in those underground tunnels, so Hund's people don't know about it?"

"If you can get in there," Hemmings said. "Security—"

"I'll get you in," Lydia assured them. "It may be too late—"

"I'll go with you," Ron said.

Hemmings nodded. "Padma and Anderson via one route, me, Harry, and Ginny via another. We're heading to the roof."

XXX

Hermione attached a small electronic device to the lock on the service door. "Lydia?" she asked on her phone.

"Is it in place?"

"Yeah. Can you—"

"Child's play," she replied. The green bulb on the lock lit up. "You're in. Take the transmitter with you," she said.

Hermione pocketed it and closed the door behind her. Ron led the way down the staircase into the secure area of the hotel. Every few feet, one of them stopped and sent forward a spell to disable the surveillance cameras. It seemed like a large labyrinth, but Fifty-One had the schematics down to the last detail, and Hermione studied them. "Left," she said. "Right in forty feet, there's another stairs there."

"Another camera?"

"Above and below the stairs."

Ron went forward, and Hermione heard the sound of the spells, followed by a gunshot. "Hey!" Ron yelled. "We're on your side!"

Hermione rushed downstairs. "Who are you?" the Special Forces soldier demanded.

"Your backup," she said. "The wards extend all the way here?"

"As you see." He pointed behind him, where two wizards stood, unable to move forward. They were accompanied by two more soldiers.

"Tried the anti-magic grenades?" she asked.

"Of course," one of the wizards said.

"In that case—" Hermione waved her wand, and a series of glowing red, green, and purple lines appeared on the walls, floor, and ceiling. "Interesting," she muttered.

"Hermione?"

"It's the ward pattern, but it's very unusual—_Agio!_"

A high pitch came out of her wand, followed by the bright lines suddenly turning orange, yellow, and finally white before flashing out altogether. And then, immediately, a rumble seemingly shook the foundation of the entire building, and the ceiling above them cracked.

"Hermione!" Ron shouted, grabbing her to pull her back. "Run!" he managed to yell at the rest of the Special Forces team before the ceiling collapsed and a wall of rocks separated them.

XXX

Harry, Ginny, and Catherine Hemmings were heading up towards the roof in an elevator, when the building slightly shook and the lights went out.

"Great," Hemmings said. "A power failure—"

"A deliberate—"

"Now, now, Mr. Potter. I assure you I had nothing to do with this. I want everyone to have their comforts."

They looked for the source of the voice. It was a glowing replica of Hund's head that hovered at the top of the elevator.

"Greetings, Mrs. Malfoy," the head said. "Hi, Cathy."

"_Reducto!_" Harry fired the spell at the head. It dodged the curse and shook.

"That wasn't very polite."

"And trying to resurrect Voldemort was?"

"That was Bella's obsession. I couldn't care less. You know that."

"But you are causing the mayhem out there—"

"Really? Helen Gertrude can do that well enough—"

"She's your Bella," Harry said. "Worships the ground you walk on. Can't figure out why—"

"Because she understands my plans," the head said.

"Take over America, and then the world? I understand that too. I just don't approve of either the goal or the methods."

"Too bad. It would be nice to know each other. We _are_ quite alike, Mr. Potter. You're in denial. But I have no time to cure that. Nobody interferes with my plans and lives." With that, the head vanished, and they felt the elevator plunge down.

XXX

"Lydia!" Hermione yelled into her phone. "Are you in contact with Fifty-One?"

"What of it?!"

"Tell them not to try to break the wards on the hotel! If we do, we may do Hund's work for him!"

"Got it! You okay?"

"We're fine. Captain Davis broke a leg, but he'll be okay. We're taking apart the pile here—try to have at least one entrance that wizards can get in."

At that moment, the building shook again with a very loud crash.

"What was that?

"I lost contact with elevators two and eleven."

"What's that—hold on, there's something behind us. I'll check it—"

A portion of the wall fell down into the corridor, and two people climbed out. "C'mon," Harry said. "It's over."

"Harry!" Hermione shouted.

"Hermione! Help us, Catherine is hurt."

"I'm _fine_," Hemmings insisted.

"Even with a strong Cushioning Charm, a two-hundred foot fall for a Muggle is nothing to laugh about," Ginny said. "Come on."

"Hold on." Hermione aimed her lit wand into the opening. "Elevator eleven. Harry, how did you cut that wall?

"Plastic Curse," he said. "Right at the wall. Why—"

"Right here." She pointed. "Elevator two is down also. It may be—"

Harry didn't need to be asked twice. He raised his wand and fired off the spell into the wall of the passage. Within two minutes, a portion of the wall fell down and revealed another crashed elevator cabin.

"_Abrio,_" Harry said. The doors swung open. Padma was sitting on the floor, looking at Sergeant Anderson, who wasn't moving.

"Is—"

"He's breathing," Padma said. "I think it's a shock. My Cushioning Charm wasn't strong enough."

"Come on, let's get him out of there," Hermione said. "We're underneath the hotel, where we tried to break the wards—"

"Hund sent some messaging system—shaped like his head—into the elevator," Padma said as they carried Sergeant Anderson and helped Catherine Hemmings back towards the wall of debris and stone that blocked the passage after the collapse of the ceiling where the ward was. "It taunted us, and—"

"We know, he did the same to us," Harry said. They lowered their injured friends against the wall.

Ron had already moved enough out of the way to climb through and look at the other side.

"You're alive!" a voice shouted.

"Mitch!" Captain Davis, the one Special Forces soldier who was on their side of the collapse, tried to rise despite the broken leg.

"I'm alive," Mitch said. "So's Jim. But the two of them—they tried to hold the collapse down by magic so we could escape, and got crushed."

"Damn," Davis cursed. "The whole point of breaking the ward—"

"Did they have equipment?" Hermione demanded.

"What? Yeah, they did. What of it?"

"Broomsticks!" she yelled. "We can get up to the roof through the elevator shafts!"

"There's only two. Against Hund—"

"Harry," Hermione said.

"Ginny," he called. "Let's go."

"Can you tell them to head up here with backup?" Hermione asked Captain Davis as Harry and Ginny picked up the broomsticks and headed for the empty shafts.

"We should take different ones," Harry said.

"Right," Ginny said."

Harry leaped on the broomstick and flew pas the crashed elevator cabin up the shaft. Several seconds later, he whipped out his wand and sped out of the elevator door at the top of the hotel. He saw Ginny do the same, training her wand on him—and nothing else.

Harry landed and got out the phone Hermione gave him. "Hermione, he isn't here."

"What?!"

"The roof is empty—" A bright red flash blinded him. Harry turned to see where it came from and saw the MGM Hotel towards the other end of the Strip. Harry stood firm, then cast a spell to give himself a quick burst of telescopic vision—doing so for too long was dangerous, as it was nearly impossible to navigate normal distances while it was active. He only needed one look to confirm it. It was Hund. Hund was sneering.

"Hermione, Hund's on top of MGM. He must be targeting—"

"Harry, don't do anything—except maybe attract his attention."

"What? Why?"

"Captain Davis will get in touch with headquarters," she said. A few moments later, she continued, "Right. A sniper will—"

"Wait—" Ginny shouted into the phone, but at that moment, Hund's figure on top of MGM flapped his arms and collapsed.

"—take him out," Hermione finished. "What happened up there?"

Harry carefully looked at the MGM roof, where there now was a quickly moving figure in a gray cloak. "It was a decoy," he said. "Polyjuice—"

"Our sniper—"

"Our sniper is dead," Harry said with absolute certainty.

"God damn it!" Harry heard Hemmings yell. "Why are people willing to take Polyjuice Potion for him if they routinely get killed doing it?"  
"Perhaps they are well paid," Ron suggested. "We've got to get there."

"It'll take forever to get through the riot. He could set off ten hotels by then," Padma said.

"Ginny and I are going to keep him too busy to set off anything. Try to get through on the ground and join us. Catherine, you okay?"

"I'm fine. So is Sergeant Anderson. Just do your part."

"We will." He turned to Ginny. "Are you sure?"

"Harry, for the last time. _WAS. HUND. RIGHT?_"

"No," Harry said, and the both took off.

The riot was going in full temp on the street below. Harry had the urge to drop down and help... but he knew the best way to help was to stop the source of it all. He continued flying towards MGM.

"Do you think they'll make it?" Ginny asked. "In time—"

"That depends on how much time we can buy."

'Well, I did face Hund before, and held my ground."

"Yeah, but he could have held back. For all we know he might have done that with me, too."

Hund waited for them, smiling. Harry aimed his wand at him. He had no compunction about killing this man. "_Avada_—"

Hund waved his wand, and Ginny tumbled off her broomstick, falling onto the roof. Another figure—a copy of Ginny—appeared next to him. Hund raised his wand, and spun the two around each other, so fast that Harry could hardly make them apart. He then landed them down... and Harry realized he didn't know which one was real. He landed and studied the two figures. They looked identical, had hair in identical styles, wore identical clothes... He couldn't risk attacking either one,and he doubted he'd succeed if he Stunned them both and tackled Hund one on one.

"Well, this is amusing," Hund said. "You can't fight me now. It's a bad idea to turn your back onto the unknown."

"Ever think to follow that advice, Alan?"

Everyone—Harry, Hund, and the two Ginny's—turned to the voice. At the entrance to the roof elevator, wand raised, stood Samuel Hund.

XXX

Harry, for the first time, saw Hund in shock. "This... is... not... possible," he muttered. "You died in Vietnam!"

"Potter died in Azkaban. Helen Gertrude died in a parachuting accident. Your point?"  
"How—why—"

"I lived as someone else. Why? _You_ threatened my family. Did you think I'd stand for it?"

"Am I not your family? I did this all to avenge you!"

"Don't lie. And even if I did die—this isn't how I'd want you to react!"

"The Muggles must learn—"

"No. _You_ must learn. And I'm considered a good teacher." He sent a hex at Hund.

Alan blocked it and laughed. "Is that the best you can do? Then again, I had always been better than you at duels—"

"That was over thirty years ago," Samuel said, sending several more spells at his brother. "I've learned a lot since then."

Alan blocked all attacks and fired off his own barrage. "So have I."

"_Expelliarmus!_"

"_Protego!_"

Harry turned to see the two Ginnys begin a duel of their own. He could only watch, not knowing which one he should help. Unless...

"_Finite Incanta_—"

"_Lubrio!_" one of the Ginnys yelled, and he slipped. That cost him the site of the girls for a moment, and he couldn't tell which one it had been when he got back up. Alan Hund laughed.

"Don't you know Polyjuice is not something you can undo by that spell, Potter?" he said.

"Maybe he's not trying to do that," Samuel replied. "_Protego._" He blocked another of his brother's curses.

"Oh yeah? What then—"

Harry, striding over towards the Ginnys, once again shouted, "_Finite Incantatem!_"

One of the Ginnys' dresses reverted from green to black. Before either one understood what happened, Harry aimed at the one in the green dress. "_Expelliarmus!_"

"_Incarcerous!_" the real Ginny yelled. The impostor was bound by ropes and pinned to the ground. "_Petrificus Totalus!_"

"Are you okay?" Harry ran up to Ginny.

"Yeah. Let's help Sam."

Harry and Ginny fired two Stunners at Alan Hund, who blocked one and dodged the other. But then, Harry tossed an anti-magic grenade, which exploded right at Hund's feet. Samuel recovered from the blast first, and hit Alan in the shoulder. He winced.

"Give it up, Alan," Samuel advised. "You don't have a chance."

"There's always a chance," Alan retorted, retreating from the three of them and constantly forcing them to block his curses. But all three relentlessly advanced.

Suddenly, he conjured up a glowing creature that Harry had never seen for real before... thirteen feet tall and heating up everything around it... a fire demon.

"_Aguamenti!_" Ginny tried.

"It's no use," Sam said. "_Protego!_" He conjured up a shield to stop the stream of flame.

Harry aimed at the demon. "_Imperio!_" he said. "Get lost."

The demon looked round and... vanished. Alan Hund, not prepared for this, wasn't ready for the surprise his brother sprang on him. "_Expelliarmus!_" His wand flew out of his hand, and he was flung back, over the edge of the roof.

They rushed to see what happened. Alan Hund was hanging on to the edge, legs dangling thirty stories above the ground.

"Give it up, brother," Samuel said again. "You can let go, and die, or you can come with us, and live."

"Yeah. If Potter doesn't kill me. If the MLEA doesn't sentence me to death. They're afraid. Afraid of me, afraid of the truth—"

"What truth?" Harry demanded.

"It's life—" Samuel said.

"You and I have very different definitions of life, Sam," Alan said. "But then, you were always content to follow orders, weren't you? Even enlisted in the Army?"

"Or maybe I just cared for something other than myself, than my own power."

"If I die... I'll die fighting. And I'll take you with me!" Alan yelled, and then his nose extended into a gray trunk and grabbed Samuel. The elephant Animagus, holding Sam, plummeted below.

"No!" Harry yelled, and leaned to look. The elephant landed, splattering blood all over the place

"My god..." Ginny whispered.

"I don't believe it. His own brother..."

"Come on, Harry. Let's take—"

Their other prisoner, still stunned and bound, began to transform. Harry rushed over, expecting Helen Gertrude.

It was Tamara. "But... Gertrude?" Ginny stammered.

"If this was Tamara,"—Harry looked at Ginny— "...where's Gertrude?"


	45. Episode III: chapter 8

**Chapter 8.**

The only good thing that could be said of the attempt to cross the Strip amidst the violence was that, thanks to the fact that they were a mixed group of wizards and Muggles, and clearly so, their colleagues didn't mistake them for the rioters. That didn't mean they had an easy time avoiding stray curses, bullets, and grenades. Twice they were attacked by enchanted cars and had to fight them.

"Hurry!" Hemmings shouted, already at the street entrance to the MGM.

"Everyone, watch out!" Ron yelled from the roadway. "Run!"

One glance upwards was enough to make most people obey. Padma, Lydia, Sergeant Anderson, and Hemmings barely got of the way as the huge mass crashed down, sending blood and guts splattering everywhere. "My god," Hermione whispered. "You don't think—"

"What other reason for an elephant to be at the top of the hotel. It must be…"

"They did it?"

"They did it!"

"Noooooo!" a shriek came from a cross the street. It was followed by a roar of a powerful car engine.

"Hermione, move!" Ron yelled and pushed her out of the way of the oncoming vehicle. Hermione received a glancing blow while Ron was hit head-on and run over. The white limo's sunroof was open, and Helen Gertrude leaned out of it, throwing curses from her deadly platform.

"NO—" Padma shouted. Hemmings tossed an anti-magic grenade, which hit Gertrude and fell inside before going off. The car immediately skidded to a halt. Gertrude did not lose balance, though. She leaped out, landed on her feet, and with one Banishing Charm, tossed Sergeant Anderson and Padma aside. Before Hemmings could fire her rifle, she aimed her wand at her. "_Crucio!_"

Hemmings fell. "_Crucio! Crucio! Crucio!_" with each curse, Hemmings wriggled in yet more pain.

"The only reason you're not dead," Gertrude snarled at her, "is that Alan was your father. Though, if I had a daughter like you, I'd kill you myself." She kicked Hemmings in the stomach. "Army scum."

"_Stupe_—" Padma attempted to attack her from behind.

"_Reducto!_" Gertrude fired it without looking and then dropped and rolled towards her. She came up with a knife in her left hand, and Padma, despite leaping backwards, found herself with a bleeding gash across her stomach. But she hadn't lost herself.

"_Expelliarmus!_" Gertrude lost the knife but managed to hold on to her wand, she leaped at Padma and grabbed her, knocking her down and attempting to reach into her belt.

"You killed my friends," Padma said.

"You killed the man I loved," Gertrude retorted. "A man with a vision, a man who'd save our world. You doomed us."

She head-butted Padma, knocking her against the pavement. Padma was nearly knocked out by this. Exhausted, she knew she couldn't hold on to Gertrude much longer. But then, Sergeant Anderson stood up behind Gertrude, pistol in hand. Padma nodded. Anderson raised the gun and fired.

But a moment earlier, Gertrude found what she was looking for in Padma's belt—her emergency Portkey. She vanished out of Padma's arms, and the bullet hit Padma.

"My god, no!" Anderson shouted, reaching down to help Padma. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry. Padma, don't—"

"It… was… not… your…" Padma collapsed.

"No… just…"

"Sergeant," Hemmings came up from behind him, "do you still have your Portkey?"

"What?" he yelled. "Our comrades are—"

"Do you? We've got to get them to Fifty-One and give them medical attention. Our Portkeys," —she pointed to herself and Lydia— "got caught in one of the anti-magic blasts. Do you still have yours?"

Belatedly, Anderson nodded and took it out. "Come on, get their bodies." They all got together around the still forms of Ron, Padma, and Hermione, and then, Sergeant Anderson activated his Portkey. They vanished.

XXX

_July 2003, Las Vegas, Nevada._

Harry still couldn't believe what happened. Only a week ago, they arrived in Las Vegas full of cheerful news about the defeat of Voldemort and Bellatrix. Only a week ago, Harry was ecstatic about being with Ginny again… it all seemed like it came from another era.

_RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY, _the tombstone read. _1980—2003_. Harry stared at that for hours, as if trying, by sheer willpower, to change it something else. It was the same.

Hermione had, technically, survived. But Harry didn't think she could be considered lucky for it. She was lying in a coma in Area 51's medical section, and neither magical nor Muggle medical experts could tell if she would ever wake up. Harry wished it had been him in either—or even in both—positions. It was he who led them into this, after all.

Padma had more of her body covered in bandages than not. Sergeant Anderson constantly hovered about her. Harry had heard that he had shot Padma by accident when attempting to kill Gertrude. _He's the lucky one_, Harry thought. _I probably feel like he would if Padma had died_.

Bill and Fleur, having arrived from France to the funeral, stood in silence, holding each other. They hadn't talked to him, and he had a suspicion that they blamed him for what happened. Since Harry thought they were right, it didn't bother him as much as it would have otherwise.

Catherine Hemmings and Lydia Jones openly cried—which Harry wouldn't expect of either of them. He couldn't bear to talk to Hemmings after she told him she thought it was her fault. He simply told her it was his, and strode off. He knew Hemmings was Hund's daughter, and that, despite it, she had done everything to stop both Hund and Gertrude. He, on the other hand… he should have done more to stop both Voldemort and Hund. If he had…

Ginny stood quietly, holding Caroline in her arms. She had told Harry that Caroline was constantly asking for her parents, and that she simply couldn't bear to tell the truth—maybe because she feared the toddler wouldn't understand, or because she would. Harry strode over to her.

Ginny pierced him with a sharp gaze. "What are you going to do, Harry?" she asked.

Harry was surprised at the question. To him, the answer was so obvious it didn't even require thinking. "I'm going to find Helen Gertrude," he said. "And I'm going to kill her."

"Harry, don't."

"What?!"  
"Don't go off. She's not worth it."

"Ginny—your brother—"

"Will killing her bring Ron back? No."

"But it—"

"Just… let it go, Harry. I'll have to raise Caroline now. I'd like your help. Give her a family. Don't you think Ron and Hermione would have thought that was more important?"

"She's a menace—"

"She's no Voldemort, she's no Hund. She's an obsessed witch with delusions of grandeur exceeding her means to achieve. She was a dangerous underling of Hund, but on her own? If she surfaces, the MLEA can handle her."

"And if she doesn't? Where's the justice in her walking free while Ron and Hermione—"

"Harry, you've wasted enough of your life. Stay with me. Help me raise Caroline. Just… don't…"

"I—"

"If you're not going to do for Caroline," Ginny whispered, "then do it for me. I love you, Harry. Don't go away. Please."

"I love you too, Ginny."

"Then stay with me. Let me help you. Don't throw that away for revenge."

"Ginny, I—"

"Don't."

Harry embraced Ginny, careful not to hurt Caroline and kissed her. "I love you," he whispered.

Ginny's eyes filled with tears. "Harry…"

He pulled back and looked at her. "Goodbye, Ginny."

And he Disapparated.


	46. Epilogue

**Epilogue.**

_June 2018, above eastern Oregon._

Helen Gertrude was looking forward to another victory at Skydiving Chicken. When Alan was murdered, she had gone back to the Muggle world under a new identity and resumed her hobby of extreme sports. She had neither connections nor skills in the wizarding world to take up Alan's mantle, and so far, no one else had thought to do so. She'd wait. She could wait for a long time. Meanwhile, nothing would prevent her from living her life to the fullest.

"Ready to lose?" she asked her opponent, standing next to the open door of the airplane.

"Don't count your chickens before they're hatched," he said.

"Whatever. One, two, three, go!"

They jumped and started falling together. A few seconds later, the man looked at his watch. "Just in time," he whispered.

"Just in time for what?" Gertrude asked.

"For the potion to wear off," he said, and began changing his appearance before her eyes. When the change completed, she recognized him.

"Potter!" she yelled. "What—"

"I found you, Gertrude," he said.

She knew denial would get her nowhere. "What are you going to do? Kill me?"

"In a way."

She breathed. "Then do it."

"Do you think I'm stupid? This area isn't exactly crawling with wizards. An Unforgivable will have the MLEA—or are they part of the FBI now—around here on the double. A simple parachuting accident, on the other hand—"

"I've never had a parachuting accident—"

"There's a first time for everything," Potter replied.

Gertrude yanked her release cord, and the parachute began unfolding. The canopy opened fully… and flew off, with Gertrude still falling.

"What have I told you?" Potter said. "By the way, this also constitutes your first loss at Skydiving Chicken."

"You cheated," she said.

"No, I took advantage of your emotions. Isn't that what the game is about?"

She reached for her wand. "Looking for this?" he asked, showing to her. He snapped the wand in half and tossed the pieces down. "Not going to work."

"Why—"

"Why'd you kill my friends?"

"Why'd you kill Alan?"  
"He was trying to kill me. He was going to start a civil war—"

"The Muggles must learn—the Revelation was—"

"A painful learning pang, and general acceptance afterwards. Compared to a war—"

"We lost everything!"

"You, maybe. There are still wizards. There are still wizarding schools. We—"

"It cost them nothing! It cost us—"

"Shut up! I've heard it all from Hund. The peace between our worlds was fragile enough—we saw that. Have you ever heard of the MAD doctrine?"

"What? What does that have—?"

"That's what the situation was like—for centuries! We didn't have to like it, but that was reality—and Hund was a destabilizing element. For both worlds' sakes, he had to be eliminated. If we could, we would do it while maintaining the secret. We couldn't. You want to blame someone for the revelation, blame Hund."  
"Potter, I'm not interested in talking philosophy with the one who murdered the man I loved. And you haven't considered one more thing."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. I have," —she yanked the cord— "a reserve parachute."

Potter didn't stop, simply waiting for the canopy to be pulled out. Then it met the same fate as the main parachute.

"No," he said, "you don't."

"What about our radios? They'll get the entire conversation, and—"

"I replaced them with magical communicators," he said. "No one is listening in but us."

She looked at him. "You've thought of everything, haven't you?"  
"It took me fifteen years to find you, Gertrude. I wasn't about to make a slip that'd let you survive and cost me fifteen more. This is it, Gertrude. This is justice."

"You're going to hell for this."

"Maybe," he said. "But you'll get there first." Potter began changing again, this time getting smaller, transforming into a hawk. He soared above her as she plummeted down.

THUD. She heard a very loud noise and felt a jolt of pain. Then, nothing.

_Cincinnati, Ohio._

The doorbell rang. Ginny, wondering who it was, hurried to open it.

When she did, her jaw fell down. "Harry? Is it really you?"

"Hello, Ginny," he said. "Yes, it's me."

"Well... why don't you come in?"  
Harry did so. "You look great," he told her.

Ginny blushed. "Thanks. You..."

"Huh?" He was looking around absentmindedly.

"I suppose," she said after a long pause, "this means you got her."

Harry nodded. "Helen Gertrude is dead," he said.

Ginny sighed. "I hope it was worth it."

"What—"

"Aunt Ginny?" a voice came from upstairs. "Who are you talking with?" A short teenage girl with bushy red hair came down. "Uh... hello?" she said.

"Hi... Caroline?" Harry asked. The last he'd seen her, she was almost a baby.

"Harry is an old friend of mine... and of you parents," Ginny said.

"You knew Mum and Dad?" Caroline asked, excited.

"We were friends at school. Very good friends. You look a lot like them—both of them."

"Why didn't you visit before?" Caroline asked.

"I was busy," he said. Ginny looked at him and mouthed_, She doesn't know_ before he went on.

"I'm going to meet Lee, Aunt Ginny," Caroline said. "Will you stay?" she asked Harry. "Will you tell me about Mum and Dad?"

"I might," Harry said. "I'd certainly like to get to know you better."

Caroline smiled.

"Stay safe, sweetie," Ginny said. The girl Disapparated.

"Something on your mind, Harry?" Ginny asked.

"You didn't actually adopt her?"  
"I... I couldn't. I felt like I was taking something from Ron and Hermione. Silly, isn't it? And she was really sad when Hermione finally died last year—even though she never really spoke to her. She never woke up, you know."

Harry looked like he was about to cry. "I'm sorry," she said. "It's just... we visited her every once in a while... always hoping for something, and... nothing ever happened. We buried her next to Ron."

"I plan to go to the cemetery soon. I go there every year, you know. On the anniversary of..."

"So do we. How come—"

"I wore disguises," he said.

"Harry..."

"How's everyone else.

"Who? Padma and Sergeant Anderson had married."

"She married someone who shot her?"

"It _was_ an accident. Hemmings... well, she's the first witch in Congress, so take it however you want. Lydia runs a software company."

"And you, Ginny?"

"Vice Principal of the Cincinnati Magical Academy, and Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. I hope you don't mind I took that job from you."

"Well, since I couldn't—"

"You _could_ have Harry. You _could._"

Harry didn't try to argue.

Ginny heard the front door open, and let in her kids and husband. "Gin!" Jon called out.

"Hi, Jon," Ginny said, as he ran up to him and kissed him.

"Who's this?" Jon asked.

"An old friend," she said. "Harry, this is my husband, Jon Horner—"

"You—"

"Pat and I kept in touch, she introduced me to her brother, and it went on from there. These are our kids, Laura and Christopher. Everyone, this is Harry Potter."

"_The_ Harry Potter?" Laura asked.

"Yes, the Harry Potter," Ginny said. "He was a friend of Caroline's parents. Jon, can you get dinner going I want to have a word with Harry alone."

Jon headed into the kitchen. "Let's step outside," Ginny said.

"Ginny," Harry asked, "do you think I did the wrong thing? Back—"

"Harry, you may hate me for this—"

"I could never hate you. I still—"

"Don't say it, it'll only make it worse. Yes, I think you did the wrong thing. We could have worked things out, I know we could have.

"I was really angry with you after you left. But I know why you did, and I'm not mad anymore. I just sometimes... regret it happened this way. You made your choices, and I made mine. And, despite everything, I'm happy with mine, and I want you to to be happy with yours."

"But—"

"If I was the kind of person who'd leave Jon and the kids to run off with you, would you want me to?" She laughed.

"This is a goodbye—"

"It is not. I care about you. I am your friend, if you'll have me as one. Caroline will want to know as much about Ron and Hermione as she can. You know what that's like, don't you? There is no need for you to run away. In fact, there never was."

"You still think I was wrong, then?"

"Yes. You were wrong to dump me after Dumbledore's funeral, you were wrong to not pay attention to me during the war, and you were wrong to go after Helen Gertrude. And you lost a lot of happiness because you made those wrong choices. I want you to be happy, Harry."

"That won't be easy," he said.

"You've done a lot of difficult things in your life. You can do it."  
"Nice to have your confidence in me."

"You always had that. And you always will."

"Thanks. I guess I need to think about where I shall go from here. Maybe I'll return to England for now. Well, good—"

"No. It isn't a goodbye. Not this time."

"I guess I'll see you later, then."

"Much better. And not just me. Caroline, too. You promised."

"I said I _might_—"

"Harry!" she glared at him.

"Right."

"I hope you'll be happier next time we see each other."

"So do I."

Ginny kissed him on the cheek. "Go on, or Jon will get suspicious."

He looked into her eyes and Disapparated. Ginny couldn't hold back her tears. "Good luck," she whispered, "Harry Potter."


End file.
